Holy sons bleed from their hearts
Holy ghosts bleed from their eyes
Holy virgins bleed from their legs and
Holy fathers bleed from their heads
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Sonic spirit cast
A life, a piece of glass
Hurtling towards the planet
But you’d swear it was an accident
Heaven help us all
We’re seventh dimensional
Objects which our universes
Never did see before this curse
Woah, woah, woah, woah
Here we go
Those images of self spread out on screen
Are not to have or hold such is obscene
This is a life comprised of flaccid dreams
Insemination by artificial means
We’re defined by the bites on our hands
and our tireless sewer rat demands
And let’s reconstruct these lands
and fuck holding hands
Because we are imprisoned by the world we envisioned
We’re static prisoners … ???
So please cut the transmission and destroy the revision
Those images of self spread out on screen
Are not to have or hold such is obscene
This is a life comprised of flaccid dreams
Insemination by artificial means
Razor blade wildflowers
Wrapped around my head
In sanguine spread
Have bled the sordid truth
That has gone unsaid
Eloquence is dead
These blackened limestone stairs
Have reminded me
Of the Kiss of Brancusi
I saw the dullest red
Drip down my head
Eloquence is dead
