The time of weeks are up, with him.
She is high
Will it be life, will it be death
Is there a god to go to
Is there a life to give.
If we are quick. No.
There is a speed, yet not a hurry.
In the years of a thousand deaths
The great pagan right
No ceremony or truth.
And christians not to know
No not till they awaken
On this pagan hour.
She joins the Q
And the sun shines out oer the temples
As she marches forth
Up a thousand steps.
Her breasts are dry
Her sex flown out
As unsensed she worships god.
I, the loving act was committed!
The high priest lays her back.
Her legs apart
She sweats in the heat of today
Her muscles hard with fear
The fear in rejoicing her relief.
A priest now prays
And the antonym goes on.
The clean white of virgin
The white of the ward
The shine of silver and light.
They stand oer her
With the sacrificial knife
Ready in light
To strike the person
From the bosom of life
The thought of death
The knife comes down
The worry of health
The knife goes to crown.
Her virgin bleeds
For the first time
Her eyes are closed
Her Body white.
And she lives to make
Another mistake.
コメント