| Oh my offspring, oh fragile one:
|
| I lay on the altar
|
| When will my reaping end?
|
| When will my reaping end?
|
| You plunged your blade into the horizon
|
| To let it bleed out visceral hues of red for the last time
|
| Such capacity for inhumanity!
|
| Taking in that we’ll never again begin
|
| Diverge to a static rot
|
| And if you, oh Lord, reside upon this serene seafloor
|
| I’m compelled to implore
|
| Did you sink, or did you simply abide in my deep?
|
| Out of nothing, but something, you came
|
| And it’ll reap the sow of this tableau tonight
|
| Guards paradoxically living under lock and key
|
| I must rescind my sentience, the nescience I extol
|
| The antithesis of life, that sickness unto death
|
| I must rescind my sentience: the sickness that I know
|
| Faith is to fate, a pale horse to its rider
|
| It is we who are free
|
| No longer captive to your coercive control
|
| I must rescind my sentience: the sickness that I know
|
| Father, I…
|
| I know our margins have widened
|
| But could there be space for a fool to wander this earth
|
| To ink our name in the blood of a martyr on your footstool?
|
| No boundaries or borders
|
| «I should have been a pair of rugged claws
|
| Scuttling across the floors of silent seas»
|
| But first tell me: Did you see through my opacity?
|
| Innocent, I do not assent to the unrelenting tide
|
| There’s blood staining these waters
|
| Evaporated to circle the sky
|
| Innocent, I do not assent to the unrelenting tide
|
| My blood’s staining your waters
|
| Evaporated to circle the sky
|
| No, «I am a man of unclean lips»
|
| I’ll welcome that coal to send away my sin |