You hold her eyes in open palms

They sing the sacred psalms of our past


And cold nights wield these idle minds

and twist your broken spine

take pride in your temporary fame

its all that you can claim as your own

and bold wives curse your heathen child

as she screams her rebel cry, straight through the night



old hands

have strangled your mother

blood stains

your skin



now your creepin through city streets

flashing crooked smiles

at the porcelain prophets

who've named your child



where have all your sons gone?

their mangeled hands will greet the dawn



All hail the god forsaken queen

As she rides the war machine to its grave

And blind whores stumble through the door

Beggin' her for more

Don't relay this answer to the midnight dancers

Who softly weep as they tread across the floor

Where their mothers bore christ

And they'll keep kicking til they die

Well its all that gets them high



Old hand

Have strangled your mother

Blood stains

Your skin



Lonley host, are you riding on the back of your ghost

Is it hard to feel whats riding you?

You speak to me through your clenched and rotting teeth

Its hard to hear you breathing



All you have left are your bones

And the tide will carry you home

Nothing will stay with you

And the beggar's bride is asking who, who do i blame?

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