There is a wicked barrier that detaches and discolors our
In paranoia I find genius But the ice-dreams have come
We idolize and exonerate the statues of barbarians and henchmen
I hide inside watching from the stained glass eyes 500
You’ve burned your bridges and crushed all life within the
Use my body to spark the fire that will burn
Disfiguring the memory So silent So serene One eye shut
Feed me and rape me and rope me As a
Why do our children bleed? Onto the floor Tears and
We were not born into sin We were born into
Like the numb birds that failed to make their migration
Forced to scorch at the stake of humanity
Our heavy
Let the steel be my Christ Let the blood create
Philosopher Bastard head of the Eucharist Seasons have counted backward
» More on Circle of Dead Children