They called me the man with the blood of Christ honesty. But tonight I drink with heathens and the finest of our blasphemies. . In wine there's truth but in silence there's surrender.
That sweet little red-head's got her hooks in my back. She points her finger and she shows me what I lack. Her pale skin, it burns so hard in the midnight air.
From the unrelenting beat of a pounding drum. (Come anew). From the seizing breast of a wicked beast. (We survive). In the hallowed marriage of sound and revolt.
And when the underworld's. Best kept secrets. Saw it's own reflection. I knew things had finally changed. For better or worse. Whatever as always. . Midlife fires start to burn.
This morning there are no rods or staffs to comfort you. Dressed as a target as you amble in your chains. Stumble through the corridors that lead to our makeshift valley of death.
Stepped off a chair so he could learn to let loose. Learn to let loose before the pendulum wore off. In his final sound a gurgle and a cough. In his final words the pendulum wore off.
Place your justice in my palm and then I'll make fist. Punch your grimaced face until every last knuckle breaks. And bleeds in resistance to my sidewalk painting.