Firstwake

You'd be choking on your flame, my Son without a name
Made king of all the wastes
And forever will swallow us alive, we'll be abstracted from time
And we can let the tides wash over

This is the epilogue to the introduction, lost in the sound
Hold tight to all your systematic theories
That help you to sleep at night
But remember that there could be no sufficient certitudes in Hell

Father, forgive them
For they know not what they do
Mother, receive me
'Cause I'm coming home to you, does this cup run dry?

Look at what we've done again, we wage war in the name of love
Using gold to fill the holes in your hands
Caught in the paradox
Juxtaposed between bifurcated black and white
And my propensity to fail you
Caught in the cyclical narrative of violence
That invokes your name to justify genocide
They'll take everything

We traded water for salt
Something whole for something equally as broken as us
Now dying of thirst, we'll write this out in blood
And shut you in a stone-cold time where the air rots out, leaving us alone
We chose to be alone
I was given this cup to quench parched tongues
But I became drunk and lust lynched my lungs

Father, forgive them
For they know not what they do
Mother, receive me
'Cause I'm coming home to you, does this cup run dry?

For they know not what they do