The Betrayel - Lapse

Though I’ve returned with my head hung low

And my palms pressed flatly, upwardly together

In due time I plan on leaving again

And when I do my fingers will fold to form a gun

And flip to fuck a chorus of pussies

Who still answer to that brilliant thought

That revealed itself to them in third grade

What was it again?

In this church the clocks have stopped

While her bedtime tongue hits my ears undeciphered

And my hands send «silk» to my heart

Before the «skin» to my brain

And I know these whispers betray my alchemy

And my new religion can set us back centuries

But I’m not coming back

I’m not coming back until i can take this with me