The fallen that dreams suicide; takes the needle instead of the gun.
The victim who self crucifies can't realize, Christ is a weapon that chisels at our lives. Deconstruction, deconstruction.
The martyr takes his aim, and wounds the holy man.
On the eight day, God made the art of War, and laughing planned the End.
Who will lick my wounds when the earth swallows the light, who will eat the decay when the worms have lost their sight? Can you see tomorrow if I open up your eyes, will you stand in line while the shepherd hunts his sheep?
Deconstruct my reality and watch me slip away, I am the dog.
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