Let's begin,
With a little sin,
An image twisting from my words,
you spy a butterfly,
it's wings still wet from the cocoon.
Do you remember,
the day we ran barefoot in the cold,
senseless like children,
in shifts and corsets.
I want this to be vague,
you’ve cut too deep into my skin.
Picture now,
a doll,
wrapped in a nucleus,
there are layers,
many, many layers,
the inner most,
is nothing more then a scared ball.
People pass,
through rafters,
of sorts,
having little effect on this fragile fetal reality.
They only ones kept close are friends,
and enemies.
You were Eve in all of this,
at least how you portray it.
And I your scapegoat serpent obey it.
But all the serpent did was warn,
“That apple twill bring you harm,
yet knowledge none the less.”
You took it.
And when God comes down who do you blame.
The serpent,
what a surprise.
I do not fit this role you’ve cast me in,
The Pandering Devil or the Godless messiah,
which seems right to you?
Return to the image of the butterfly,
and watch as a child rips off it’s wings,
can you hear it’s screams?
You will not move to save him,
he has not worth,
just a toy for a toddler to break.
You realize,
there is nothing more sinister then the mind of a child,
You would know.
If I am as cold,
as the rain and the stars,
as careless as you say,
then I’d close my eyes and fall out through the cracks.
Knowledge is a dangerous thing,
Can you repair,
what you’ve done?
You can mop up the blood,
dispose of the body,
but,
you’ll never really be clean....
Wash,
scrub,
purge,
burn,
bleach,
Will you?
I’ve thrown off your burdens,
I’ve got my own sorrows,
I’ve got no choice,
you’ve made it all sore,
and you’re going to slip.
You’ll never FIX us,
you’re the demon,
you’re the child who cried wolf.
You may repair,
but the soul doesn’t forgive.
I’ll wear the scars you gave me like a badge.
And though I’ll burn in Hell,
for all the blasphemy I’ve felt and said,
the thousands of curses I’ve spewed at God.
It will clam me to know,
you’ll sleep beside Judas.
I cast you out,
disown and excommunicate,
you are a betrayer.
Your remind me why people shouldn’t be let in.
No one can handle it but me.
Get out
and as you run,
just remember this:
Those bloody wings on the floor,
you did it,
but it’s my turn now,
prepare to be clipped.
With a little sin,
An image twisting from my words,
you spy a butterfly,
it's wings still wet from the cocoon.
Do you remember,
the day we ran barefoot in the cold,
senseless like children,
in shifts and corsets.
I want this to be vague,
you’ve cut too deep into my skin.
Picture now,
a doll,
wrapped in a nucleus,
there are layers,
many, many layers,
the inner most,
is nothing more then a scared ball.
People pass,
through rafters,
of sorts,
having little effect on this fragile fetal reality.
They only ones kept close are friends,
and enemies.
You were Eve in all of this,
at least how you portray it.
And I your scapegoat serpent obey it.
But all the serpent did was warn,
“That apple twill bring you harm,
yet knowledge none the less.”
You took it.
And when God comes down who do you blame.
The serpent,
what a surprise.
I do not fit this role you’ve cast me in,
The Pandering Devil or the Godless messiah,
which seems right to you?
Return to the image of the butterfly,
and watch as a child rips off it’s wings,
can you hear it’s screams?
You will not move to save him,
he has not worth,
just a toy for a toddler to break.
You realize,
there is nothing more sinister then the mind of a child,
You would know.
If I am as cold,
as the rain and the stars,
as careless as you say,
then I’d close my eyes and fall out through the cracks.
Knowledge is a dangerous thing,
Can you repair,
what you’ve done?
You can mop up the blood,
dispose of the body,
but,
you’ll never really be clean....
Wash,
scrub,
purge,
burn,
bleach,
Will you?
I’ve thrown off your burdens,
I’ve got my own sorrows,
I’ve got no choice,
you’ve made it all sore,
and you’re going to slip.
You’ll never FIX us,
you’re the demon,
you’re the child who cried wolf.
You may repair,
but the soul doesn’t forgive.
I’ll wear the scars you gave me like a badge.
And though I’ll burn in Hell,
for all the blasphemy I’ve felt and said,
the thousands of curses I’ve spewed at God.
It will clam me to know,
you’ll sleep beside Judas.
I cast you out,
disown and excommunicate,
you are a betrayer.
Your remind me why people shouldn’t be let in.
No one can handle it but me.
Get out
and as you run,
just remember this:
Those bloody wings on the floor,
you did it,
but it’s my turn now,
prepare to be clipped.
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