Curdled milk in wine

The lingering taste of yesterday

My color has grown pale

Your face I see no more

A pointed finger accuses me 

So dead, so numb, so cold

With every illicit embrace

A splintered soul is cast aside



If I see the face of God I will die...

It's killing me slowly

A drop of blood day by day

My mind defiles its temple

My mansion shared with swine

My seed mixing in a harlot's womb

How many bastards will I create?

Will I see my dead expression?

And failures in their eyes



If I see the face of God I will die!

Cut my cord, let me drift away

This morning's foul, I can endure no more

My days are cruel

My mistress never slumbers

And sorrow never leaves me

Like the cuts in my flesh

And the sun refuses to shine

And the walls rile against me

And these knuckles raw and broken

The futile throes of freedom



And somewhere, a saint is weeping

Whispering my name

Saying, "Let him see the face of God

Let him die."