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Song Info
Genre
Charts
#12,176 today
Peak #201
#4,065 in subgenre
Peak #69
Author
Chris King
Rights
Chris King and Christine Fielder
Uploaded
June 22, 2007
Track Files
MP3
MP3 7.9 MB • 128 kbps • 8:39
Story behind the song
The woman in the piece is a devoted Zionist who found the idea of the Song of Songs being a sexual allegory with a living Bridegroom blasphemous. The song is the dialogue between the white man and the Zealot woman with a little of the Shulamite's salacious sensuality thrown in.
Lyrics
I am the rose of Sharon,
and the lily of the valleys.
As the lily among thorns,
so is my love among the daughters.
As the apple tree among the trees of the wood,
so is my beloved among the sons.
I sat down under his shadow with delight,
and his fruit was sweet to my taste.
He brought me to the banqueting house,
and his banner over me was love.
Stay me with flagons, comfort me with apples:
for I am sick of love.
Just as we know that there are briars
surrounding the most magnificent gardens,
moats around castles, walls around mansions,
security systems and all
so the Torah has it defences
to keep unwanted trespassers out.
No Gentile has ever been admitted
and no one ever will.
Imagine a 'theif' has broken into your house
and stolen your very most valuable jewel.
he has no idea how much it is worth,
or where to claim the best price.
If you have the least humility or decency
you will realize this gem can never be yours,
and you will not attempt to hock it off
from a street stall at a cut price.
You are doing untold damage to yourself and all creation
posing as a spiritual thief,
nothing but a shameless pillager
plundering a pearl beyond price.
So here I am the thief in the night
the lonely candle and the light
A bridegroom whose wedding is celebrated
when I have not taken a wife.
And know full well, if the goodman of the house
had known the hour that the thief would come,
he would have watched, and never suffered
his house to be broken through
So be ye therefore ready,
and trim your lamps and gather your oil
for the son of humanity cometh
at an hour when ye think not.
I do not know why the White man
has been created with a spiritual dearth.
Logical and intelligent, but of all human beings
most lacking in spiritual worth.
I have great compassion. It must be so terrible.
Living as a spiritual parasite,
stealing the sacred traditions of others,
the holies of the elect.
The abysmal emptiness in the White man
has driven him to conquer and to destroy
to engage in all sorts of perversions,
thinking they're a spiritual ploy.
I don't need some delusional Gentile
to immortalize a daughter of Zion
my immortality is sealed and delivered
no matter if I sin or err ...
I will always be brought back into the fold.
This is the promise the ancient one made
to the children of Avraham and Sarah
a reward for them alone.
No wannabeing gentiles can ever change it.
I am closer to God even in my sin,
than you can be in your heights of purity.
so you can take it up with Him.
Devorah, you are a living wonder,
but don't condemn yourself so effortlessly.
Unsought immortality can come to leave us
naked and ashamed.
For here I stand a thief in the night
In my darkest hour you are my light
A bride whose wedding is unconsummated
who I have loved all of my life.
Open unto me, my sister,
my love, my dove, my undefiled:
for my head is filled with dew,
and my locks with the drops of the night.
I rose up to open to my beloved;
And my spikenard flowed out to him,
and my fingers dropped with sweet smelling myrrh,
upon the handles of the lock.
Look not upon me, because I am black,
because the sun hath looked upon me
Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth:
for thy love is better than wine.
Can you imagine anything more disturbing
than 'opening' to five astute young witches
who enter the marital feast at midnight
to celebrate their sensual delight?
And when the cup runs to overflowing,
five more virgins also toil,
begging for one's loving touch,
to replenish their midnight oil?
Could anything be more inspiring
to make one feel the flame grow higher?
To rise again right from the dead?
No more to be lamented!
Some songs can never be unsung.
We just can't get them out of our head!
No matter how hard we try to be free,
there's no end to the blasphemy.
You can hear it echoing from the cliff tops,
whispering thr
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