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lyrics

ACT I: SCENE 1: EXPELLED

Wash my hands with the blood of your children.
Calling me back to my home.
Filled with your kindred and all their vanities.
They'll pray for mercy before im done.

Fountains, mountains.
Your village will burn.
Your lovers, your brothers.
Your children will learn.

It's our time. Pack your things and get in line.
It's too late. Get out now or suffer fate.

Kick the dirt up, and sever head and limb.
Watch them scrambling like ants.
I'll be king and they'll be cast away,
by the time they've unveiled my plans.

Meadows, shadows.
I'll leave no stone unturned.
Teachers, preachers.
All you've written will burn.

It's our time. Pack your things and get in line.
It's too late. Get out now or suffer fate.
It's our time. Dry your tears here comes the tide.
It's over. Pack your things and get in line.

Was it right to give them hope?
Pouring my blood out to the ones I hate.
All I feared.
All I needed.
All I wanted was peace.

Leave nothing!
Pillage all and burn it down!
GOD save them.
Push them in and watch them drown.

It's my time. Harvest burnt with your first born.
It's my time. Lead your people through my thorns.
It's my time. At the head. It's time to dine.
It's my time. Where's my feast and wheres my wine?

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from Hurt Not the Oil and the Wine, released October 31, 2006

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The Ugly Facade

We live our lives in boxes, with little glowing screens. We fill our blood with toxins, so we can deal with things. And sometimes, more than often, the bitter masks the taste. The fruitless failed reflection: what if it's all a waste?

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