| My blood flows in sobs,
|
| The way the fountain overflows.
|
| But there’s no wound,
|
| And he cries as it goes.
|
| It covers all living things
|
| And keeps them all well fed.
|
| It turns stone into flesh
|
| As it covers the world red.
|
| The dead lie laughing as I drink
|
| The needles in my happy eyes,
|
| Like sin in holy water fonts,
|
| I feel their tortured howling rise.
|
| My blood is my bones,
|
| The way a mountain’s overthrown,
|
| But there’s no wound,
|
| My own skin, not my bones.
|
| They dead they bow before they drink,
|
| The seed is sown before my eyes.
|
| Like sin in holy water font,
|
| My undead is a surprise.
|
| My blood is my bones,
|
| The way a mountain’s overthrown,
|
| But there’s no wound,
|
| My own skin, not my bones.
|
| Flooding lakes of blood is where all your sorrows sink.
|
| What haunts the heart brings my sacred blood
|
| For all the whores to drink.
|
| One crimson tide and scarlet wave offering short supply
|
| What haunts the heart boils the sacred blood,
|
| As I begin to drown.
|
| My blood flows in sobs,
|
| The way the mountain’s overthrown.
|
| But there’s no wound,
|
| And she cries as she goes.
|
| It covers all living things
|
| And keeps them all well fed,
|
| It turns stone into flesh
|
| As it covers the world red.
|
| The dead lie laughing as I sink,
|
| The seed is sown before my eyes.
|
| Like sin in holy water fonts,
|
| I feel their tortured howling rise.
|
| My blood is in my bones.
|
| The way the mountain’s overthrown.
|
| But there’s no wound.
|
| My own skin, not my bones.
|
| Ave! |
| Ave! |
| Ave! |
| Ave! |