The Janus Face

There’s something weird in the face of the dead
That made the candles flicker restlessly
The ritual burial of baron of Eybes
The magnum opus of his life
The mass was held on the easter vigil
His final will of heresy
Bloom crept in through the rose windows
The chorales sounded strangely dull
The wicked knocked at the eastern door
During the tract the priest ran pale
Though th lay dead
They felt him nar
And shivered waiting for the dawn
The priest: «It will burn his soul»
The baron: «If not by break of dawn I eat yours»
A vulture on carrion the dawn sat
On the horizon of endless time
The Janus fate rises