I feel my fingers reach my mouth, I turn my head collapse and shout
My spirits wilting and my flesh is caving in
I cry for help into the blue distress into a static view drown in turmoil as my eyes
Keep drinking in
My S.O.S. a flippant word from a scornful boy that speaks in verse
And evades salvation until my reach exceeds its grasp
Return my head into its cell and calm nerves inside the well of luscious lies
That drag me straight to hell
Flee to the shining city on the hill
Pray you last in the marathon
Until you cross the line
On the day of trumpet sound
There’s a dagger in the hand of a babe
There’s venom in the cup of a friend
There’s fire in the belly of the kind, eroding until the end
Murder in the heart of the right
No end to the devil-appetite to satisfy the need
Now everybody feed
The passive Masses caught exposed, flooding rises past their nose
No more sanctuary
No more harbor for the blind
Faces turn from grace to greed, unsettling daggers as you lead
Consume it all
Until there’s nothing left to want or even need
I speak in hunger pangs, grind my teeth to razor fangs
Sinking deep to rip and tear
Can’t stop my heart if it’s not there
Every hand grips everything
Ears are deaf to tolls and rings
Now there’s red inside the rain
And what was sterling now is stained
On the shining city on the hill
Pray you last in the marathon, until you cross the line
On the day of trumpet sound
There’s a dagger in the hand of a babe
There’s venom in the cup of a friend
There’s fire in the belly of the kind, eroding until the end
Murder in the heart of the right
No end to the devil-appetite
To satisfy the need
Now everybody feed
Wake and crave for every bite
Slave to slake your appetite
