Dark ages...
H.
O.
L.
Y
She’s a temple
A flinting flame
Shes the church
She’s the steeple
Shes the wavering faith
She s a sunday hymn
She holding a blood-stained cross
She foaming at the mouth with yesterday sins
Shes chasing a holy arrival
She her own type of pagan
A saturday well of whiskey
Stained with midnight regrets
Her mouth her own bottle
She tips to the mouth of a stranger to quite the trembling
Her hands are cups that hold her tears
And keep her head holding high
She sings amen
With hollow smile
And sunken eyes
She whispers sins
In the marble of the church walls
She the worshippers mary
She practice her faith over a bible
She commits her religion
On a righteous
Velvet sheet
And worships
The tomorrow’s
And salutes the moon
Plants her lips
On a funeral
Her madness
Is her quietness
That
Folds around her neck like a noose
And sings a haunting hallejuah
And promioses
To worship his church
She tie hair up in the virginty of christianty
She the humour
She the churches gossip
She the giggle
She the hell everyone was warned about in the scriptures
She the worships the good times
And she bows her head
To glass
And wallows in the
Wine teardrops
That dribble from her chin
Don’t you know damaging eyes
Have a fascination with breaking perfect things
#dark magic #holy scriptures # the church will lie in ruins today #we're all sinners