The velvet sky is bleeding into shades of boldest gold. A merman stands on shifting sand, a story yet untold. He’s tuning to the frequency where the solar winds ignite, With six strings flipped and silver-tipped to steal the morning light. Welcome to the Electric Church, let the spirits take the floor. We’re drifting past the barricades and the keepers of the door. It’s not just noise, it’s mercury, a cosmic shade of blue, Washing through the stratosphere to find the heart of you. Machine guns hum in distance, but the Voodoo Child remains, Breaking every link of lead and all the mental chains. He paints the air with feedback, like a scream turned into grace, A drifter finding sanctuary in the folds of outer space. Welcome to the Electric Church, let the spirits take the floor. We’re drifting past the barricades and the keepers of the door. It’s not just noise, it’s mercury, a cosmic shade of blue, Washing through the stratosphere to find the heart of you. Castles made of granite, castles made of bone, They all return to sea spray when the final wind is blown. So play the color of your soul before the sun goes down, And trade your heavy iron cross for a starry, golden crown.
