I don't care for absolution
Or intelligent design,
Same old curfews' retribution
Come round stalking at my mind
Gather your thoughts, fill with them holes
Gather your clothes, fill with them your naked bones
The spit, the swallow
The slit, the sorrow
The end tomorrow
The grim mascara
All apocryphal
Soon we are raised to suddenly praise
Same narrow books give you the spooks
Upon the fragile, the deaf and the blind
The angels lurk, demons lurk, gods lurk
From above
The hate, the anger
The true believer
All apocryphal
All apocryphal
The slit, the sorrow
We die tomorrow
Not know how it is
Not know how it feels
And you lie to yourself