There I sit beleaguered at my tablets in the pitch Rewriting what needs rewriting with wisdom of the witch In a chamber in a dungeon deep in an iron chest Gather up the wick and wax and flick our gaseous best Creeping down the paragraphs Disappearing line by line Editing the fire phrases Wither off the vine And so now, the burning begins Crackling of parchment, box made of tin Bible burner In my veins boils blood from Hell itself And the illusion of a good book slowly sinks But the epistle for the flock’s little angel wings Creeping down the paragraphs Disappearing line by line Editing the fire phrases Wither off the vine And so now, the burning begins Crackling of parchment, box made of tin Bible burner The Devil in a coil spitting venom Donnal moral cloaks and virtues Haunting the words of good By issuing fear and crimson hues Bodies below the floorboards Vulvae beneath the beds Your Jesus in his bedpan And the lambs all are dead Religion cannot rescue us Prayer books could never save Light candles in some effigies Your Jesus in a grave Bible Burner Oh holy words at your denounment Bring to me legend and lore Come what may to this coil I pervert all you stand for Unholy words, in your victory Teach to me thy spells of hex Come what may be it plague or death I will go into Hell’s vortex Bible BurnerTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
