The Stars Are Decaying

My soul was wreathed with archaic flowers
As I played the cello on a stage of sin.
Some morality play shall follow
But the audience are mannequins,
Dumb and uncaring.

This theatre is on the horizon of night,
at the zenith of a noir splattered sky,
With astral lanterns lighting the way.
But the stars are decaying
And the prophets are blind.

Backstage I am surrounded
By the tinsel vomit of rising starlets
And angel dust like sparkling galaxies.
But the stars are decaying
And the prophets are blind.

The celestial city is falling down,
The bride cries behind her black veil
While burning her bouquet of woe.
But the stars are decaying
And the prophets are blind.

This destruction is televised
And my own annihilation
Will be smeared across the sky
While the stars decay
And the prophets die.