boxcutter
de Gatherers
God how I ricochet between certainties and doubts?
Prey upon the weak as if you were godless
We butcher and bear witness
Come pray
It’s not enough grief
Praise the crutch from the arms of your redeemer
I’m you’re miracle strung on a rope
Cancer plagues the well from which you drink
Worship in the filth of a new disease
Worship in the clay I seed
Feral martyrs in heat
Come sink your teeth into me
I shepherd the poor like lambs to the chapel
Reveling in the dogma and giest
You’ll never take me alive, feed me to the fire
All and nothing less by the book I prescribe
Falsify
Hunt down the flock for the meat
Prey
There is no hope, no cure
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