Curdled milk in wine
The lingering taste of yesterday
My color has grown pale
Your face I see no moreA pointed finger accuses me
So dead, so numb, so cold
With every illicit embrace
A splintered soul is cast asideIf I see the face of God I will die
It's killing me slowly
A drop of blood day by day
My mind defiles its templeMy mansion shared with swine
My seed mixing in a Harlot's womb
How many bastards will I create?
Will I see my dead expression?
And failures in their eyesIf I see the face of God I will die
Cut my cord, let me drift away
This morning's foul, I can endure no more
My days are cruelMy mistress never slumbers
And sorrow never leaves me
Like the cuts in my flesh
And the sun refuses to shineAnd the walls rile against me
And these knuckles raw and broken
The futile throes of freedomAnd somewhere, a saint is weeping
Whispering my name
Saying, "Let him see the face of God
Let him die"
Songwriters
D. Juan; P. VeePublished by
CHEVIS PUB CORPORATION Song Discussions is protected by U.S. Patent 9401941. Other patents pending.