Red Room - Curse Upon A Prayer

I could taste his wine of lies

Of a weak divine breathing no more

A crown of thorns upon his decayed skull

And his filthy blood on my hands

«Hear me, Seraphs!

Hear the Heralds of Pestilence!»

Thorns, pierce me

Poison my dying flesh

And I will carry your sins

To your grave with you

Uncross your hands & vomit his flesh

Behold the sad god you once prayed

Praise the dead flesh nailed on the wall

For in my presence his light began to fade

And with great praise they will feast

The bastard sons upon their false fathers

And from the flesh you were born

And the flesh is all you are!

«Hear me, Seraphs!»

Fly today

Higher, beyond gods

Embrace all things pure

For tomorrow when the moon turns red

The skies will die

By my word

And those words will be spoken

Thousands of times again