| Half an inch away
|
| Speak before the sweat is even noticed
|
| Such a bitter taste
|
| Recite the words I just can’t comprehend
|
| Ink the scriptures to my feet
|
| The bruising, swells and apathy
|
| Sit so still with skeptic limbs
|
| Penetrate these veins to fill this vial with naivety
|
| Sip and have a taste of my disease
|
| And they’re dragging you
|
| The sacrament has stained
|
| My appetite for ceremony crisis
|
| A narrow taste for faith
|
| Depends on all the staleness that has formed you
|
| Stitch the sins to my gums and teeth
|
| A midnight mess of surgery
|
| Speak so soft with hectic grins
|
| Deface the veil that separates
|
| Where guilt won’t die and is born again
|
| Open aisle awaits for my two needs
|
| And they’re dragging you
|
| And they’re dragging you
|
| And they’re dragging you
|
| Our hands are tied to the clergy’s lies and and they’re dragging you
|
| Our hands are tied to the clergy’s lies and and they’re dragging you
|
| Our hands are tied to the clergy’s lies and and they’re dragging you
|
| Our hands are tied to the clergy’s lies and and they’re dragging you
|
| Our hands are tied to the clergy’s lies and and they’re dragging you |