Catching Feathers

If my child should die before me

the sweetness of youth, a smile that sings

eyes alight insanely butchered, perverse drooling

horrific beyond restraint

Lord of the dance, lust is murder for this brave man

high, slaughtering general in a white feathered army

mort knows your name, his, before your time

I'd love to see you suffer, too much to be called a crime

The sweetness of youth, a smile that sings

eyes alight insanely butchered, perverse drooling

you cannot even pray, for you have no god