The Lamia - Genesis, Phil Collins, Peter Gabriel

The scent grows richer;

he knows he must be near

He finds a long passageway lit by chandelier

Each step he takes, the perfumes change

From familiar fragrance to flavours strange

A magnificent chamber meets his eye

Inside, a long rose-water pool is shrouded by fine mist

Stepping in the moist silence

With a warm breeze he’s gently kissed

Thinking he is quite alone

He enters the room as if it were his own

But ripples on the sweet pink water reveal some company unthought of

Rael stands astonished doubting his sight

Struck by beauty, gripped in fright

Three vermilion snakes of female face

The smallest motion, filled with grace

Muted melodies fill the echoing hall

But there is no sign of warning in the siren’s call

«Rael, welcome!

We are the Lamia of the pool

We have been waiting for our waters to bring you cool»

Putting fear beside him

He trusts in beauty blind

He slips into the nectar

Leaving his shredded clothes behind

With their tongues, they test-taste and judge

All that is mine

They move in a series of caresses that glide up and down my spine

As they nibble the fruit of my flesh

I feel no pain

Only a magic that a name would stain

With the first drop of my blood in their veins

Their faces are convulsed in mortal pains

The fairest cries, «We all have loved you, Rael»

Each empty snake-like body floats

Silent sorrow in empty boats

A sickly sourness fills the room

The bitter harvest of a dying bloom

Looking for motion I know I will not find

I stroke the curls now turning pale in which I’d lain entwined

Oh lamia, your flesh that remains I will take as my food

It is the scent of garlic that lingers on my chocolate fingers

Looking behind me

The water turns icy-blue

The lights are dimmed and once again the stage is set for you