So like your father in the face and blood
Terrified and cold
And whispers the coming of a cleansing flood
For you
You hide your filthy hands from all of us
Still unseen and tied
What water these killing hands
could ever clean
Still you run
I want to be changed from
The shadow and the tomb
Like water rushing over us
The tide pulls from the moon
Your mother the passing of a silver ring
Oversized and cold
This specter will walk the halls of every seed
From you
I want to be changed from
The shadow and the tomb
Like water rushing over us
The tide pulls from the moon
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