Dead Skies

The Flame is doubt
 The Flame is trepidation
 The Flame is an abolition of the nexus between man and spirituality
 Timor mortis conturbat me (The fear of death confounds me)
 I am so humbled by this
 That which looms heavy like soil
 But sits in the chest like smoke
 The crushing finality...
 That you ain't gonna live forever...
 1:
 CUT YOUR TEETH ON LIFE,
 GUM AT THE AFTERS;
 REWARDS AND BLANDISHMENTS SIZED.
 WHAT OF THE PRIESTS WHO ARE STEALING THE TITHE?
 BATHING IN DEAD SKIES...
 The void of uncertainty...
 With such baited arrogance
 I've mocked the weighted sickle.
 Can't say I'll be called awake.
 Blaspheming beyond the break...
 SOUL LEAD HEAVY...
 2:
 SHARPENING TEETH IS RIFE,
 THEY'RE USELESS IN THE AFTER;
 PUNISHMENTS GARISH AND WIDE.
 I AM A PRIEST WHO IS WASTING HIS LIFE
 PRAYING TO DEAD SKIES...
 IT'S SIMPLE, YET RESOUNDINGLY COMPLEX...
 THE APPROACH IS MADDENING... TERRIFIED BY THE NOTHING...
 THIS PHOBIA IS NOT CONFIEND TO HAUNTED MEN - I AM WHAT YOU WILL BE...
 FELLOW MAN - HOW DARE YOU TEMPT ME WITH THE PROSPECT OF JUDGMENT AND THEN RELEASE.
 WITH RAPTURE AND SCRIPTURE AND OPULENCE THAT FALL FROM YOUR MOUTHS - LIKE DEAD LEAVES - THE RULES SET IN OPPOSITION LEAD ME TO MARCH INTO THE FLAME...
 INTO THE FLAME!!
 1... 2... 3... GO BACK...