Christ on the cross as it’s illustrated
I’m body soft and disintegrated
I’m in this self half-illuminated
I’m on the call but it’s distant and faded
I myself I’m the robber denied
I chased all I lost down to spiraling silence
I’m on your side it’s just so hard to see you
I’m on the side of the ghost and the needle
It’s the choice in my hand
The suicide or the slaughtered lamb
When it’s so full of tricks
I’ll be toasting the gold lights of life
The trail is cold and hard
The course of the light of the child
A slow messenger
I’m in charge of the coal and the fire
White noise calling on a sudden delusion
I’m chased out of breath trying to come back to you
I’m in arrest of the subtle hues
Oh, I’m in this self-sick solitude
The sky’s fallen soft to the silence renewed
I erased all the tops from the tall city view
I’m in the flesh of the hungering few
Oh, I’m on the call trying to get back to you
It’s the choice in my hand
The suicide or the slaughtered lamb
When it’s so full of tricks
I’ll be toasting the gold lights of life
The trail is cold and hard
The course of the light of the child
A slow messenger
I’m in charge of the coal and the fire