Lyrics Poor Devil - Ilsa

Poor Devil

Sick with rage and regret
Negative peace
Fatal scenes
Replaying in his mind
The twelfth disciple
The last apostle
Poor devil
Never saw it coming
Useful idiot
Played his role
Thirty pieces
Doomed his soul
The earth would not cover his body
The sea would not swallow his corpse
No steel could cut him
The flame would not consume
Low hanging fruit of a poisoned tree
Judas hung himself
Judas hung himself
It happened in the field of clay
Jesus caught
And pushed him off th shelf
Bathed in burst blood and bowels
H swayed
If Judas' betrayal
Was predestined
The story’s hinged
On cruelty manifested
Manipulated into his deception
The heel to blame
The rube with no redemption
Judas hung himself
Judas hung himself
In the old potter’s field of clay
From the knotty branch
He strangled as he danced
In his burst blood and bowel he bathed
Bathed in burst blood and bowel he swayed
Judas hung himself
Judas hung himself
In the potter’s field his body stayed
Three red worms rose
From the rotten soil
Into his entrails to lay their eggs