augustine (stalking the saint)

 

Stained, and I, I have no choice, rumor or say
And I'm waiting for a sign from you, regarding my fate

And now I know, why they call you terrible,
coiled and strange
and now I find that if there are no tears,
there must be novacaine

What could be finer, appropo and insane
but to over and over and over, choke down this pain.

Stained and I, I am this puppet, a puppy on a chain
helpless to say "yes" to you, helpless even to change

And now I know it's nothing but tyranny,
It's not love, but a dice game
So spit me out, but don't toy with me,
better outcast than shamed

What could be finer

Stained and I, I am left here, lonely but free
And since the damned are invisible,
I don't care who sees

And now I'll taste this bitter wine,
of love and loss and sin
See Him reach up through my spine,
and tear me limb from limb

What could be finer