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Curdled milk in wine The lingering taste of yesterday My color has grown pale Your face I see no more A pointed finger accuses me So dead, so numb, so cold With every illicit embrace A splintered soul is cast aside
If I see the face of God I will die... It's killing me slowly A drop of blood day by day My mind defiles its temple My mansion shared with swine My seed mixing in a harlot's womb How many bastards will I create? Will I see my dead expression? And failures in their eyes
If I see the face of God I will die! Cut my cord, let me drift away This morning's foul, I can endure no more My days are cruel My mistress never slumbers And sorrow never leaves me Like the cuts in my flesh And the sun refuses to shine And the walls rile against me And these knuckles raw and broken The futile throes of freedom
And somewhere, a saint is weeping Whispering my name Saying, "Let him see the face of God Let him die."
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