Disciples Of Boredom |
[Oct. 24th, 2005|06:58 pm] |
I followed the blood To the woods And there it became the shadow
Of a man long dead.
And his eyes were made of fire. And his soul was made of anger. And even god didn’t dare to unlock
His secrets.
And in his church sat The empty people. The disciples of boredom.
The martyrs of absolute
Silence in the halls of one man Angry enough to kill a boy who Spoke his name to a relative.
Things will not be christened
By he who is the Opposite of Jesus. |
|
|