My pagan roots usurp my history
A culture six feet under these city walls
I’ve not recovered from the troubling of the water
I wonder which angel will save me now
Scraping, off this horrible dirt
Historephorical
Buildings, my morals all distort
An endless reservoir
Place of the skull
I remain aghast at the darkness from an eclipse
Place of the skull
Wood is torn apart by time, and I know that I’m gonna slip
Basilica
Curious infatuation with the end times
Basilica
Painting every organ with a deadline
Scraping, off this horrible dirt
(Historephorical)
Buildings, my morals all distort
(An endless reservoir)
Place of the skull
Stainless steel replaces cartilage
Place of the skull
I can’t let my sadness force me into sacrilege
Basilica
There’s an orange blood clot in my heart
Basilica
We understand as much as we choose our part
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