Past the charred pines lies the uninviting future These stinky spit holes were your eyes Now there’s nothing left to prove You caught me in a state of bliss In Black July, observing ruins
Sour blood dripping Tell the boys to clean this mess The abyss deepening Bodies melt in hospitals Sour blood won’t dry Wash your face in the holy river The skies split above And the innocent start screaming
Can’t shake off your smell As I call another witness Rivulets of tainted semen form the map of future days Your distorted face floats above the holy river Past the phallic minarets crosses rise like giant creatures