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