Have you ever felt the pain of possession,
Of self-worthless obsession?
Of your heart being siphoned through the mouth of Beleth at his best,
White horse and trumpets blaring and all?
Spat out as a pile of leftover dregs
Into the valley of disillusionment
Where we sift through the earth,
Looking for anything to bring us back to ourselves
Together,
Bound at our hearts by one chain
Let's go home
Bound at the throats by one rope
Let's go home
Have you ever been so empty?
Staring at your wall in bed,
Waiting so long for benediction?
That you melted into the cracks
Where silence bends and history speaks?
What did you hear?
Did you drift off to sleep?
Who did you wish would hold you in your dreams?
Together,
Bound in exile from ourselves
I will cut you from your hanging rope
Bound by a moat around our hearts
Will you cut me from my rope?
How long will we walk this road together?
We found ourselves -
These particulate dregs shaped into our form
Motion is all that we do
Our fingers lace;
The warmth of your particulate
Fills me up like a beggar's cup
You are me, and I am you

Send the mountains, shivering like teeth in their view from the backhouse
The emptiness of the breathing forest granting you subsistence
Send the wind, grasping at nakedness, bowls of warm water cascading down breasts,
No eyes to create scruples with folds, no sunshine to warm our skin
Send the uncouth cry of my mountain lion, the prickling fear of skin, caked with dirt, with sex, with
latency
Your ego dripping around my thighs
Send the darkness, eyes smelling the wooded path, hands slipping in and out, feet boiling with blisters in
the rain
If only the rain would wash away your sin, you are sin
Send Caledonia, running towards the fawn, fire cascading down her back, she is too late
Her tiny body isn't yet fast enough, the wolf will keep eating it
Send our shameless funeral feast, in our drunken bower
Where we shot the blood from the bear
We couldn't have him eating our apples
The bear hadn't yet learned his lesson like Caledonia
Send the new moon, the moment when your hand slipped from mine in the darkness and you howled
And the thickness of the black air enveloped me like a blanket

We were told that the walls of the temple
Were a vessel born from god
To lift us from underneath the crushing wheel of life
Death and rebirth
No god shapes us
Lest our ribs crack under the walls of his temple
Our existence is sloughing
Moulting of the vestigial
Yet our ribs crack
Our existence sloughing
Moulting of vestigial,
Ossified sloth
Self-imprisonment shed;
Shape, or be shaped
Salt the wounds inflicted by others
Better to fester than to accept
Better to harbor rot
Than to cede self
Apotheosis of change
To touch is to be touched, any denial of this is self-mockery
To change is to be changed
Passive receipt of change
Is betrayal of self

[Instrumental]