A Ritual Mask-Peter Hammill

A Ritual Mask upon the wall furnishes his surroundings and he thinks that's all. The Ritual Mask, its power still strong, a memento of his travels, that he got for a song. He got it for a song. He got it for a song. It was the song of the centuries undisturbed, it was the song of secrets and power words; it was the song of a culture not grown immune to the virus of progress, to the theft of the tune. The Ritual Mask, the evil eye inhabits his apartment, inhabits his mind with a song of vengeance, with a song of a debt repaid, with a song of justice, with a song of a hand unstayed, with a song of a culture as old as the hills... that sits uneasy on the living-room wall like a snake about to kill. The Ritual Mask, it won't take long before he finds out the bargain has turned out dreadfully wrong. Oh, he got it for a song.