violence violence

Are you the prayer whispered
In the shade of the olive tree?
Do you dream only in the black shades of death?
Voices heard in a hospital
Product placement and ecstatic angelic vision
Look at it, it's beautiful
What's it made of?
Look at it, it's beautiful
But what's it made of?

Ad copy in an otherwise forgotten dream
When was the last time you collapsed with sacrificial purpose
Before the salivating angel confessor
Ovulating sickly through your memories?
A frail voice which once every few lifetimes
As if in mourning
Leans softly in the direction of home

I see nothing but crimson
Turning blue with you
Your beautiful hands move like two meteors
Combing through sand on a public beach
Your beautiful hands move like two snakes
Through the tall grass
If I close my eyes I can hear the small voice
Caught in the throat of the wind
If I close my eyes, I can return again and again
Like fruit rotting fifteen years in the past

Look at it, it's beautiful
But we don't know what it's made of
Look at it, it's beautiful
But we don't know what it's made of
Look at it, it's beautiful