Climb the highest mountain, punch the face of god
Sunday Services
The candle wax drips down
Slowly, drying
And becoming candle again.
It is midnight in hell.
Crimson opens the floodgates
And we all bleed to death
In the garden of
Good and evil.
Sunday services,
Grin and bear the mass
As though it were a needle
Withdrawing blood from
A vein.
Try to forget that tomorrow
Ever happens.
Pretend it is two years ago,
When the people closest
To you were
Actually on your side.
March 16, 2008
Slowly, drying
And becoming candle again.
It is midnight in hell.
Crimson opens the floodgates
And we all bleed to death
In the garden of
Good and evil.
Sunday services,
Grin and bear the mass
As though it were a needle
Withdrawing blood from
A vein.
Try to forget that tomorrow
Ever happens.
Pretend it is two years ago,
When the people closest
To you were
Actually on your side.
March 16, 2008
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Sunday Services
Sunday Services
