| oh i have felt
|
| cobain’s sarcoma
|
| growing on this will of mine
|
| to drag me down
|
| into the water
|
| the joy i feel
|
| before i drown
|
| and the lord’s hand moves on the scheme of my nerves
|
| in the chemicals swimming and the substance of the earth
|
| his love so great but the soul singers spurn him
|
| to sing their love to some unknown reckless girl
|
| they sing to great
|
| queen heroina
|
| the comfort that
|
| she warms them with
|
| their music swells
|
| with all their yearning
|
| they are ashamed
|
| to sing for him
|
| who has built these shells that our spirits knock inside
|
| and weep for their release in the onrush of the tide
|
| of the lord’s great seas that will boil when he returns
|
| to pluck us off the face of this sad and dirty world
|
| i saw sam cooke
|
| and ian curtis
|
| at the door
|
| of his golden realm
|
| they sang his name
|
| sweet lord in heaven
|
| and then the lord
|
| he let them in |