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All women become like their mothers That is their tragedy No man does, that is his Deception is blasphemy Pulled the trigger with militant intent Tried so dearly to be mothers little soldier You had the dry eyes, firm stare, the get-up and the steady hands Though when the click fell, nothing but a flag came out, painted with a bang Your heart has to bleed in it You can't manufacture malediction Bleeding it, lifeblood must be in it It has to flow from your own reserve, you must believe in... Enter our confessional Recite sins and lechery kindled for old flames Banished to a realm ever benthic How many times will you beg to be forgiven from the sins of shame? Press your soft hands into mine, confess Open wide those glorious eyes, confess No book, no bell, no candle, confess No cause for excommunication dress Letras de canciones No cause to cry nor reason to weep No parting ceremony No altar, no hard place Only thing to be discovered is the soft space between... Rest with what ameliorates From Letras Mania