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The clock of the four winds is a tall-case grandfather style clock originally assembled in 1710 by an Italian astronomer and mathematician named Ricco Foscari, a direct patrilineal descendant of famed explorer, vintner and occultist, Cosimo Foscari. The magical properties of the clock were such that when its hands were moved and positioned in certain configurations, it would trigger remote viewing events which would be projected onto the glass panel cover. The clock was also rumored to serve as a sort of “beacon” used for summoning an other-dimensional being named “Desdinova” who acted as a sort of intermediary between detached yet interconnected causal timelines.
LYRICS:
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The chariots lie broken exhausted from war
The wheels rolled off in the mud
In the morning all good things are good
The sun warms up the mud
Stillness is raptured in all its arising
The seeds grow up from the mud
In the morning the dawn weighs a feather
The insects hatch from the mud
The hunger for sunlight draws flies to the surface
The babies wake up in the mud
In the morning from green murky waters
To wiggle around in the mud
Bones growing hollow, the gills turn to lungs
Gasping for breath in the mud
The fins turn to legs the scales turn to vellum
As feathers shake loose from the mud
Fly high, all you flying high birds
While the warm western winds are beneath you
Oh you soaring high birds
The sky coming down to greet you
We’re all dying to meet you
The bird, the great swooping bird
Beak open, gobbling gold
Oh you soaring high bird
The north winds are growing cold
Feathers flush with colors bold
Now pretend you are the sun
Feathers flush with colors bold…
Now pretend you are the sun
The southern winds, the washboard clouds
Diving daringly during the day
Teetering upon the tip of the tree
The seasons will have their way
Tail feathers turning to gray
Scatter little birds, oh you tiny little birds
The easterly light is encroaching
Seeds spilled upon the ground
With the end of the autumn approaching
And the seasons must have their way…
Now pretend you are the sun
And the seasons must have their way…
Now pretend you are the sun
And the seasons must have their way…
Rider’s final horse has ridden
Puzzle finished, last piece hidden
Oysters chatter on evening tide:
“I’m Desdinova and I confide,
I am the one you warned me of
I am the leak and the long lost love
And I am the one who will never lie
Deathless, I may never die
By lizard lens and crystal rope
You know me by my telescope”
Scattering stars in hand she shouts:
“The play is what it’s all about
Behind the clock with arms stretched tall
The script is on the western wall
Behold the light that never warms
You’ve been warned, I am the storm”
So raise up your chalice and toast to the moon
And sing to the stars as they flicker and loom
O! Irony! O! Tragedy!
Aching knees don’t fail me now
We slayed the vile dragon who lived in the skies
We bathed in its blood and we pickled its eyes
O! Devilry! O! Revelry!
If my friends could see me now
O! Bravery! Camaraderie!
The last lotus eaters recline in the sun
The race to return has been finally run
Finality! Causality!
Swept away on swaggering swans
