Primordial
The Mouth Of Judas
I am cut from the cloth of JudasAnd have seen his face in mineThe weathered hands that turn the pagesAre scattered in the sunMy ship has the blackest sailsYet no wind to drive like slavesYou cannot see from shoreThat it casts no shadow upon the waveThe sepulchral crawl with usOver land and see they hailDeadened hands upon the rudderGroaning on the galeThey will dash you against the cliffs'Til every brittle bone is brokenJutting rip and gristled knuckleIs gnashing on the foamI am cut from the cloth of JudasFrom the hangman's hand itselfThe long stare of the condemnedAnd the cursed song of slaves"And you who follow me to makeSure I do not exceed the spanLetras de cancionesGiven to me on earth I takeCare old shadow of a manDead God of all my god's own snake"Guillam ApollinaireFrom "Reply of the Zapur-Og Cossacks to theSultan of Constantinople"Free me from the hangman's handFree me from the hangman's nooseSo bend you knee before the majesty of deathYou struggle for breath and lay the dead head toheadSo they stretch from the womb to the graveLet us tell you the first journey of menThe first murder, the soil so red and barrenIt burns so red and barren
From Letras Mania