High on the flesh Of the knell and the psalm Drunk on the blood Of the funeral Ridden by lust And sepulchral thirst I come dressed in hunger And the trauma of birth
Sun of maggots Decay is my light My breaths are all anthems To the moth and the mite The whore is dead I fall down to pray And to celebrate death As the god of our faith
There it is again… That putrid smell Could Belinda have been right? But then again…so is hell!
Rotting bosom Her stench is my church Her shell shall serve as pulpit Until reclaimed by the earth
Lifeless altar A fresh cross of bones Her cold flesh shall be my voice Until the worms bring her home
High on the breath Of the slip and the fall Fuelled by the yolk Of the burial Black and blue creed On a hymnal of skin To re-school the clergy That to breathe is to sin A song through the holes Where the eyes have been To convince the council That to die is to win
High on the flesh Of the knell and the psalm Drunk on the blood Of the funeral On wings of ash And wild pallbearer mirth Soaring on the cool breeze Of yet another stillbirth
There it is again… That livid hue The wind is growing stiffer But then again…so are you!Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
