Hell-oH shit no it's the devil, let me go, let me know the sacrificial lamb was a peasant pendin' noh body's ever endin' soul rottin' rendered by a skull, slaughtered, severed by his own father.
Unholy water drips down in leaf like veins. They stain, as they kiss the ground. Greet my kin six feet deep and my knees finally bend, but it's too late now. If I choose to pray now I'll be questioned of my sin that I refuse to say now. I refuse to lay down and if I'm buried on my feet, it's because I choose the grave now. Let my tears flood as the watcher in the water chooses to wade now. It's too late now, but you knew a way out. Moses parted the angel from my soul, my wings too, came out. When the halo released my neck and redeemed my head, I was too, saved now. Though it remained you who came down. You who took my place and my crown. Thorns pricked and blood of yours dripped. Wash away those drenched finger prints. Torn and ripped from your mouth was worn and singed in the howls of a hellish moon. Life you are with, but words you are without. You must dwell in ruins for you fell into used skin. It's proven to shed the wound, so you grew new skin to blend a bruise. Open arms couldn't lend a truce so with yours wide they bend the rules to fit and walk with bliss in Heaven's shoes. At the foot of a mother, dragged a ball and chain. She was to crawl in vain of a God we all misplaced. Our pockets were faced with empty souls and the mirror couldn't make change. We didn't create equality, we were always made the same. Bet you never saw it that way? Put your money where your mouth is and swallow it. Savor the hollowness, crave more of the flavor. It's called a Sin from Eden's Garden a vengeance would harvest and menace the fall of the blessed. Wings in these squals were wrecked with a thought of the restless. Lest we forget it's destiny who let we speak deaf and free. So long as we hear ourselves we would never forget we speak. If we have the choice of death, we have the right of passage. For God speaks the answer's voice in our heads, but questions, the Devil's likely to ask them.
You wilt away in my eyes.
