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I have lain with the lamb |
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Sang his tender praise on long dark nights |
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Searched my drawn face long and hard |
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For a sign of his light |
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Shoulders to the wheel for the grist of faith |
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Is manna for the blind |
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Like a child of Cain without the providence of truth |
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Joy did come. It rose with the morning sun |
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Like cold guilty sweat across my brow |
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These are the first words that fell upon my lips |
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I have lain with the wolf |
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He seeks me out and demands my company |
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In the corner of a crowded room |
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With words of madness and water of fire |
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He whispers, when the demons come |
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Do you make peace with them or do you become one |
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of them? Do you? |
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If I give name to my furies, can you name them? |
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He preaches salvation in the loins of women |
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And the black sciences |
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When the shadow fell upon me |
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I knew I was running with the wolf |
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And it was his eyes I saw staring back |
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And this I learnt and this I know |
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You cannot escape the beast when you wear his mark |
