Flat hand, open palm
Your mouth was screaming, your eyes were calm
Flat land, 23rd Psalm
Little Bo Peep, your sheep done gone

Flat hand to leave no trace
Mark where the nail went, left a scratch across your face
Flat land, glittering strand
Lover’s angels banished from the sand

No eyes shine brighter
To the flailing, failing fighter
Who once held above her head
A glowing trembling lighter

No heart pounds harder to the sinking, drinking martyr
Who trembled on the bank
As her last dream boat sank
Beneath the deep and sleepless water

Holy Mary, hold the phone
I want a little baby that’s all my own
Hold the line, hold me tight
I got a hole in my arm and I can’t get it right

Holy flesh, howlin’ bones
Run off and left me, all alone
Hopped up boy, hothouse frail
I got a hole in my arm and I know, I’m bound to fail

Blood of my blood is what you are
No wise man’s gift sent from afar
Blood of my blood flows through your veins
And bound our hearts in crimson chains