|
Shamed by the weak and cast down in disgust |
|
A shell of a broken man without trust |
|
Preaching upon open ears of the deaf |
|
Depraved words uttered beneath your cold breathe |
|
Killing what's left of the embers of youth |
|
Scraping and clawing for a whisper of truth |
|
Sewing our mouths shut as nothing escapes |
|
Love and grace is a display of a man you once were |
|
But unlike the hand of Midas |
|
What you touch will turn to shit |
|
Blood will flow between us |
|
And the ground will shake until you repent your sins |
|
The touch of cold skin and the embrace of life |
|
In darkness dwells secrets in a holy disguise |
|
Nothing will soothe you, old hands will turn numb |
|
Silence will not speak |
|
But unlike the hand of Midas |
|
What you touch will turn to shit |
|
Burn this fucking saviour |
|
Until you see the damage you've cause |
