You hold her eyes in open palms
They sing the sacred psalms of our past
And cold nights wield these idle minds
and twist your broken spine
take pride in your temporary fame
its all that you can claim as your own
and bold wives curse your heathen child
as she screams her rebel cry, straight through the night

old hands
have strangled your mother
blood stains
your skin

now your creepin through city streets
flashing crooked smiles
at the porcelain prophets
who've named your child

where have all your sons gone?
their mangeled hands will greet the dawn

All hail the god forsaken queen
As she rides the war machine to its grave
And blind whores stumble through the door
Beggin' her for more
Don't relay this answer to the midnight dancers
Who softly weep as they tread across the floor
Where their mothers bore christ
And they'll keep kicking til they die
Well its all that gets them high

Old hands
Have strangled your mother
Blood stains
Your skin

Lonley host, are you riding on the back of your ghost
Is it hard to feel whats riding you?
You speak to me through your clenched and rotting teeth
Its hard to hear you breathing

All you have left are your bones
And the tide will carry you home
Nothing will stay with you
And the beggar's bride is asking who, who do i blame?