Jeff Buckley – Harem Man scritto da admin 21 Gennaio 2016 JOURNALIST: I suddenly noticed the body of a Parson, lying on the ground in a ruined churchyard. I felt unable to leave him to the mercy of the Red Weed and decided to bury him decently. BETH: Nathaniel! Nathaniel! JOURNALIST: The Parson’s eyes flickered open. He was alive! BETH: Nathaniel! I saw the church burst into flame! Are you all right? PARSON: Don’t touch me! BETH: But it’s me – Beth. Your wife. PARSON: No. You’re one of them. A devil! BETH: (to JOURNALIST) He’s delirious! PARSON: Lies! I saw the devil’s sign. BETH: What are you saying? PARSON: The green flash in the sky. His demons were here all along – in our hearts and souls – just waiting for a sign from him. And now they’re destroying our world. BETH: But they’re not devils – they’re Martians. JOURNALIST: We must leave here. BETH: Look! A house still standing! Come, Nathaniel, quickly! JOURNALIST: We took shelter in a cottage and Black Smoke spread, hemming us in. Then a Fighting Machine came across the fields, spraying jets of steam that turned the smoke into thick, black dust. MARTIANS: Ulla! BETH: Dear God – help us! PARSON: The voice of the devil is heard in our land! PARSON: Listen, do you hear them drawing near in their search for the sinners? Feeding on the power of our fear and the evil within us Incarnation of Satan’s creation of all that we dread When the demons arrive those alive would be better off dead! BETH: There must be something worth living for There must be something worth trying for Even some things worth dying for And if one man can stand tall There must be hope for us all Somewhere, somewhere, in the spirit of man PARSON: Once there was a time when I believed without hesitation That the power of love and truth could conquer all in the name of salvation Tell me what kind of weapon is love, when it comes to the fight And just how much protection is truth against all Satan’s might BETH: There must be something worth living for There must be something worth trying for Even some things worth dying for And if one man can stand tall There must be some hope for us all Somewhere, somewhere in the spirit of man People loved you and trusted you, came to you for help PARSON: Didn’t I warn them this would happen? Be on guard, I said. For the Evil One never rests. I said exorcise the devil. But no, they wouldn’t listen. The demons inside them grew and grew. Until Satan gave his signal. And destroyed the world we knew. BETH: No, Nathaniel Oh no Nathaniel! No, Nathaniel, no There must be more to life There has to be a way That we can restore to life The love we used to know Nathaniel, no There must be more to life There has to be a way That we can restore to life The light that we have lost PARSON: Now darkness has descended on our land and all your prayers cannot save us Like fools we’ve let the devil take command of the souls that God gave us To the altar of evil like lambs to the slaughter we’re led When the demons arrive, the survivors will envy the dead! BETH: There must be something worth living for PARSON: No, there is nothing! BETH: There must be something worth trying for PARSON: I don’t believe it’s so BETH: Even some things worth dying for If just one man could stand tall There would be some hope for us all Somewhere, somewhere in the spirit of man PARSON: Forget about goodness and mercy – they’re gone. Didn’t I warn them… Pray I said. Destroy the devil, I said… They wouldn’t listen. I could have saved the world. But now it’s too late. Too late!!! BETH: No, Nathaniel Oh no, Nathaniel No, Nathaniel, no There must be more to life There has to be a way That we can restore to life The love we used to know Nathaniel, no There must be more to life There has to be a way That we can restore to life The light that we have lost PARSON: Dear God! A cylinder’s landed on the house! And we’re underneath it – in the pit! JOURNALIST: The Martians spent the night making a new machine. It was a squat, metallic spider with huge articulated claws – but it, too, had a hood in which a Martian sat. I watched it pursuing some people across a field. It caught them nimbly and tossed them into a great metal basket upon its back. PARSON: Beth! She’s dead! Buried under the rubble. Why? Satan! Why did you take one of your own? There is a curse on Mankind. We may as well be resigned. To let the devil, the devil take the spirit of man JOURNALIST: As time passed in our dark and dusty prison, the Parson wrestled endlessly with his doubts. His outcries invited death for us both – and yet I pitied him.