Written for anyone who has fallen into the depths of addiction. And for MP.
Lyrics
Damn the man I took his hand it leaked the air of art
Night dogs cowered in the station, no child there at all
In Bethlehem I wish the land would hand over her fame
It mocked all the others, murmuring in pain
In rigid air your streaked eyes dig like inlets search for home
They feel and race for the place we made of tusk and thorn
Wade through their domain heart of iron, blackened hair
With welded shield to adorn me, love: I'll meet you there
Chorus:
With holy bath below, I have wailed in shadows
I dove in neglected, clumsy and twisted
Straight into the oil - waiting to be fed
Your soul was once topsoil draped in emerald green
Your seeds now lie with others, fearing being sewn again
Fetch yourself the fodder you will need an age old flame
The clocks have lost their stride, the sun won't paint the same
Your lashes flirt with aging saints, savoring the waste
Though you grovel in the gravel you wonder why you ache
Fatally I am consul to this mighty lonesome war
I pierced hearts in El Dorado to leave these clues at your door
Chorus:
With holy bath below, I have wailed in shadows
I dove in neglected, clumsy and twisted
Straight into the oil - waiting to be fed