The hands of a clock come together as if time were applauding my endurance. Your mouth met mine in a dream, prostrate to your embrace, I heard you speak. "Worship me now; I am inside you." "Reach for me now; this can be achieved." The hands of a clock spread open as if time were begging me to believe. But I know now that it is all a fucking illusion for convictions are reserved for the weak. I claim to posses no knowledge, I am a hypocrite who feeds on cowardice I am merely one of the sheep. But I am headed up this mountain where the butcher and his son now steep the bloody entrails of my brothers in a chalice of stone filled with wine and heresy. And I am offering up my body now in this sacrilegious ministry. I see the Shepard there in the distance his hands are raised towards our beginning. His arms ablaze in this pire where the heretics now copulate in pollution and disease. And I am crawling up this goddamn mountain edified by centuries of malice and deceit. My body is torn and broken by years of mutilation, these hateful proclivities. But I see my lovers face, I see her face there in the distance and as I scream her name she smiles for me; as I reach out to touch her body she parts her lips, beckoning: "Remember me now; I am inside you." "Remember me now; this can be achieved." The hands of a clock perform concentric circles as if time were mocking my fucking lunacy. The moon in the sky becomes adjacent with a new constellation which comprises her body. I pray to you now with enriched fervor; I pray to you now as I sing. Your voice in my head reaches me now as an echo, singing, "Worship me now I am inside you." "Reach for me now this can be achieved." "Remember me now for I once touched you." "Reach for me now as you bleed." I worship you now I love you! I reach for you now as I bleed. I worship you now I love you! I reach for you now. Yes, I reach.