The Taxonomy of Curds

[Intro]
[Verse]
Ink upon the vellum.
Secrets, I won't tell them.
Deep within the cellar.
Cold as any dweller.
I count the heavy wheels.
Breaking all the seals.
[Pre-Chorus]
Elspeth brings the morning light.
Chasing away the winter night.
She hums a tune so low.
Watching the cultures grow.
[Chorus]
Taxonomy of the bloom.
In this hallowed room.
White mold like a lace.
Reflected in her face.
Soft curd, hard rind.
Keep the secrets of the mind.
Categorize the holy rot.
Everything the world forgot.
[Post-Chorus]
Label the rind.
What do we find?
Label the rind.
Peace of mind.
[Verse]
Type four is the blue.
Veins of indigo hue.
Like the maps of the stars.
Or the ink in these jars.
She touches the crust.
With a quiet sort of trust.
[Pre-Chorus]
Her apron smells of salt.
Locked in this stone vault.
The bassoon starts to groan.
We are never truly alone.
[Chorus]
Taxonomy of the bloom.
In this hallowed room.
White mold like a lace.
Reflected in her face.
Soft curd, hard rind.
Keep the secrets of the mind.
Categorize the holy rot.
Everything the world forgot.
[Bridge]
Classification of the damp.
By the flickering oil lamp.
Is it earthy? Is it sweet?
Like the grass beneath her feet.
Formal notes on every tray.
While my heart begins to fray.
[Hook]
Oh, the velvet weariness.
Oh, the archival dreariness.
But she smiles at the whey.
In her own quiet way.
[Verse]
Sub-species of the grey.
Where the shadows like to play.
Note the texture of the skin.
Where the holiness begins.
I record the aging date.
While I contemplate our fate.
Does she feel the silent spark?
In the damp and in the dark.
[Chorus]
Taxonomy of the bloom.
In this hallowed room.
White mold like a lace.
Reflected in her face.
Soft curd, hard rind.
Keep the secrets of the mind.
Categorize the holy rot.
Everything the world forgot.
[Post-Chorus]
Label the rind.
What do we find?
Label the rind.
Peace of mind.
[Outro]