Worm in the Silk

Gerard Gerard, transparent skin Lit blue eyes, kiss on the chin You wrapped up oracle, you feverish germ You scratch of the wool, the incubus' squirm La da da da da da da da da da da da da da La da da da da da da da da da da la da da da Da da da da da da da Not kind were my thoughts, for the ghost on the bus The faithful 2: 40, that tranported us From the houses of women, left to weep in their wombs To our dry sanctuaries, to our suicide rooms Look homeward angel, spit on your curse It can only get better, because nothing is worse This is Robert Johnson from outer space This is Mother Teresa with the world on her face This is the cookie that crumbles This is everything gone This is Martin Luther This is 'Phil and Don' This is ground below zero This is safety and harm This is 'low' and 'heroes' This is sex on your arm This is blood on a banner This is fall and ascension This is American idol This is the eleventh dimension This is the stele of revealing This is the talk of John Paul This is too crazy to mention This is nothing at all