The Divine Suicide Of K.

I better think of my answers now

because I know the questions will be asked

Like if I brought the joy I found

in the confessions of a mask

The tip of my tongue's already

touching the top of my mouth

It's meaning manifest in mercy

burning down, burning down,

burning down, burning down,

burning down, burning down,

burning down the house

It's true that tactless teem totem-poles

turn tolerance to tired taboos

It's true that a bullet never knocks on the door,

it's about to come crashing through

I walking one last mile in big steps as your alter-wine

I'm doing it in tattered shoes that aren't even mine

Because my own are in a box locked up with possessions I can't have

Like the gunman with his future and the prison priest's golden calf

Walking one last mile

Walking one last mile...

Blindfolds aside I'd probably still close my eyes

And try to feel a trembling fetal life inside

that shotgun barrel that's about to make me bleed

Like an ulcer in the stomach of the beast

Like a little girl on a bed that was years ago deceased

Resurrected last night with a letter she can't trace

Resurrected to be killed then maybe born again

I'll always be Kezia as long as any hope remains

Resurrected to be killed then maybe born again

I'll always be Kezia as long as any hope remains

Resurrected to be killed and then maybe born again

I'll always be Kezia so long as any hope remains