Clairvaux Prison Lyrics - Is Exotic Bait - French Style Furs

it is a year of strategy, the bureaucrats, 

wiping the blood off their fingers 

in the gates of the temple of reason, 

have voted to poison the enemy's well 

they know their danger, 

they need to throw some dead thing 

into the living waters 

that were once Clairvaux, 

and kill the too clean image 

in the heart of such a spring 

you know, it was once Clairvaux 

nine or a dozen murderers, 

and a hundred others 

with the grime of knavery upon them 

go colonize the ancient cloister 

on the morrow of the constitution: 

and in the shadows of the broken church, 

each dead soul starts to blossom 

in his sepulcher 

cursing the comfortable sun 

heaven, with a strange impassivity, 

show no particular horror for this grim cartoon: 

let's each new sphinx crouch in his iron hermitage 

musing the means to end 

this leprous noviceship 

and no fire falls, no brimstone buries 

these absinthial silences 

or purifies the poisoned sanctuary to a pile of ash 

god is holding you as evidence, Clairvaux; 

your faithful glass, 

patient of all the grime and blood of the late centuries 

suffers the face of the new liberty, 

frames out the new fraternity 

for all to contemplate: 

receives equality and holds it fast 

with a firm hug of locks, 

that those who have never forgotten 

the days of Bernard and the first cistercians 

may read the terror of those messages 

and fly to keep their freedom 

in the servitude of grace