Broken is the golden bowl and lost are the fair and debonaire.
So let no bell toll then, for old wood burns faster than we thought.
I was robbed by me neighbor
while disease had trapped me in my bed.
So now it is my onus
to keep a plague upon us where a flood will drown the soil.
Your new room has the kind of light that lies to you.
And I'm still living in this house.
You can see that she is planning
something foul to take what you have built.
Now colonel take advice,
don't let this happen twice when we can stop her.
You can't take mercy when you do it.
Then wrap her body in the hotel sheets.
Just take the proper preparations. Leave no indications, no stains.
Your new room has the kind of light that lies to you
and I'm still living in this house.
I'm still walking down its stairs.
I'm still reading in the library till the morning.
So this is how this ends for me with a sip from Lethe to lose all memory.
from
Arroyoan Pt. I,
track released September 11, 2015
Don Feliz was the owner of Rancho Los Feliz home to current day Griffith park. The land was willed to him by his father in the early 1800s. He lived there for roughly 30 years with his sister and his niece until he became very sick.
On his deathbed he was tricked by his neighbor into signing the deed to the land. Legend says that he was so weak that Don Coronel, future mayor of Los Angeles, held his arm and forced him to sign the deed. His niece would have otherwise been the recipient of the land after his death. She entered a deep depression after his death and killed herself on the top of Bee Rock, overlooking the current day golf course and the abandoned zoo.
It is said that both the ghost if Don Feliz and his niece haunt the land and that before her death the niece put a curse on the land and it's owner. During his mayorship, Don Coronel was gunned down in a saloon along with the lawyer that presided over the transaction of the land. The land was never the same, there have been continuous flooding and fire on the land ever since.
The curse continued on through the ownership of a a man named Griffith J. Griffith, a Welsh immigrant who came to Los Angeles in 1882 via San Francisco. Colonel Griffith, who had the military distinction for unknown reasons, began to hear the ghost. Whispers about the infidelity of his wife and a plan to murder him.
Once dead, we all must drink from from the Lethe.
