Filthy habits, pure and holy, exist without an audience.
Secrets, blessings, lies in disguise, worms crawl on divine providence
Like a swarms of birds, the mob hunts, Change your clothes to avoid detection,
Watery hearts, roll waves in the dark, their liquid brings cold redemption
Baying like a pack of dogs, they sully all that is pure
Still chased by the thrashing mob, but now you’re safe and obscure.
She guided you through misty fields, she who has no enemies
In July she said she loved you, with such fragile sincerity.
They close, upon the fallen gate, darken with malice empty
They rose because we lied to them, burn engines of eternity.