Spirit of the morning
With silence in the sheets
And droning drums bring men to their

Prostrate broken knees and burn us as
We watch the God take faith
To have tools to eradicate the human display


Of passion under cover, I see it in the face
Of the last love mounting Zion in the most curious way

My lips are swayed
My lips are swayed
My lips are swayed

Her grave is made

Your shadow like the astral sky

Ignites the Heavens pale moonlight
And forges a silhouette across the evening night
So I may imagine her ethereal morning rise


Drowning soul in the spirits
Calming the drug addled Savior


With the curdling veins suspended
On the mixed materials of a

Suicide sleep to bury our suite
Next to the final love before the wake
Make me kiss her rigor face again


Her memory is up to my knees
I fall asleep with my whisky

I can't even have a hopeful dream
Take me instead and burn me at the stake
Where you put her grave you hapless clown deity

With your paint raping my body

I see the white bleeding the red

On my fellated $#&@ing face
Is this the @@#!sure God I'm to worship?
While the pastoral calm is on another world

With some other species or nothing at all
Just burn this $#&@ing planet
Like you intend too anyways

(Like you intend too anyways)"