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Stage Blood (Bad Actors Epilogue)
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I remember orange skies
Ghost lights in the hills at night
The little lambs up there who wear their hair like Jesus Christ
Like you can't sacrifice the same thing twice
I still dream of flash grenades
Prayers that sound like children's games
Tenebraes and passion plays in papier mรขchรฉ
The prophets of a faith without a name
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Revelations come and gone
An ordinary eschaton
Most of us who noticed couldn't bear to carry on
And by the time you read this I'll be gone
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Mother those you love the most
And smother those who come too close
Now surnames when spoken taste like fingers down your throat
But those are details no one needs to know
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And for us so called lucky ones
With martyred dreams of dying young
Oh, mercy, when it comes, sometimes sounds like a cattle gun
And all you are is all you've ever done
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