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It is the fall, the eternal fall of water,
of rock, of wounded birds, and the wounded
the waterfall of freedom. Angels fall
like lovers from the azure, separate,
and die by that same death that ends us all.
Falling ten million years, we fling ourselves
again into the inviting arms of time;
our nuptial flight must end again in death
that serves for freedom time and time again
while the hard labouring mystic holds his breath.
The watching surface of the living sea
ever intact, smiles with the face of love,
where living blood drowns in its ecstasy,
impelled by nature that can mountains move,
feeling most freedom when it least is free.
Shall we go down, shall we go down together?
here on the mountain top, the wind and snow
urge us to fall, and go the way they go.
The way is clear, the end we shall not know,
the sea will carry us where tides run and currents flow.
This opening song gradually morphs one of the two positions of the falling whole tone scale into the other, in the process revealing some magical tonality progressions and possibilities. The singer’s opening monotone holds itself in place for the first 15 bars only moving into a falling phrase on the words ‘Falling ten thousand years we fling ourselves.’