| I’m blind, constricted
|
| AS I watch them
|
| The swine, they are about you
|
| Vying for your solitary pearls
|
| And flowers
|
| Now, we see the swine
|
| Upon the altar
|
| They are the shakers running shows
|
| They are about us
|
| I’m blind, constricted
|
| As I watch them
|
| Pawing at you
|
| How quickly they quiver
|
| And a-tremble
|
| Now, we see the swine
|
| Upon the altar
|
| They are the shakers running shows
|
| They are about us
|
| Now, we see the swine
|
| Upon the altar
|
| They are the shakers running shows
|
| Oh, that’s just what I’m told
|
| It only takes a silken handkerchief
|
| Amid the sackcloth
|
| Oh, how they pin you to the wall
|
| How they breathe their fetid breath
|
| Upon you
|
| She would turn away her head
|
| But there are rough hewn hands
|
| That rip her face
|
| And words that are the coldest…
|
| Deepest thrill of death
|
| When death becomes a bullish creature
|
| Down on their haunches
|
| Bloody in their meat and merciless
|
| Tonight they wish to dine upon
|
| That double-backed beast
|
| Now, we see the swine
|
| Upon the altar
|
| They are the shakers running shows
|
| They are about us
|
| Now, we see the swine
|
| Upon the altar
|
| They are the shakers running shows
|
| Oh, that’s just what I’m told
|
| Now, we see the swine
|
| Upon the altar
|
| They are the shakers running shows
|
| Oh, that’s just what I’m told |