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Slumbering through the burning desert, total lack of liquid |
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Oh gods of this place, please bring me thy vine |
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I could almost drink the blood of |
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Jesus I would dry his veins until he fell down in a pile of skin |
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I fell down out of exhaustion, my face met the ground my mouth was filled with sand |
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And my skin was boiling from the sun |
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The vultures stared circling above me, |
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I was almost ready to give my body to the birds of doom |
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Lay myself to rot in the burning sand fields, |
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I was dying.... ...but then, a mighty dark shape rised before me and gave me shelter from the sun |
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It was a god - the god of them all, and indeed he had brought a bottle of vine... the blood of himself |
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He spoke a distant language and granted me the bottle |
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I received it with my shivering pale hands... |
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I drank the vine, and as |
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I steadily came to myself |
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The god slowly vanished with the dust, except that of him which he had left in the bottle. |
