Primordial
The Puritan's Hand
There is plague at the doorIt begs to be among usIn the ashen dreams of crippled childrenThere is sickness in the soilNothing grows this side of EdenNor in the yearning abyssThat is all men's heartsNor in the skeletal tugOf motherhood that curses all with lifeThere is disease upon the airIt grasps at the throat of virtueRosary twist in leather handsAnd offer prayer for meAnd I have fought the god of menFor my whole lifeYet now we sit at the table togetherBreaking bread and drinking blood wineWe spent the small hoursStaring into the voidBetween sleep and dreamsThat stretch from the womb to the graveSo feel the puritan's dead hand as it throttles all lifeLetras de cancionesSo clasp your hands and bend your broken kneesFor no one else will, and your confessionsOf worthless guilt, are not your saving graceAnd so you seek redemption at the puritan's handIs the hell you find here not enough for you?To find your redemption
From Letras Mania