Niklas Strömstedt
Artifacts of the Black Rain
[Verse 1]
Stood there leaning to the city moon
Casting silhouettes tall to grip her white rooms
The black-clad voyeur in his black-clad masque
In the serpentine sun of tragedy basked

[Verse 2]
Stood there cursing at the soul-dead mass
With their fabled illusions, the vain dreams that passed
Splinters of a life rushing by in the whirl
Alone, silent warrior in a fantasy world

[Chorus 1]
He cried for night
But the night could not come
So, swept in the shroud
Of misanthropy he went away

[Verse 3]
And fed the empty galleries
With the artifacts of the black rain
Sunken into the shadows
With a dry, sardonic smile

[Chorus 2]
He made the footprints a part of his heart
To rouse a sacred confrontation
[Verse 4]
Stood there carving on the monument of lies
Digging of the Earth, making friends with the soil
As the all-mother rises and bares her bleeding thighs
He disappears into her cold and icy womb