Men of blood

We are the fruit of lust

Filled with sin death and despair

Burning straw

This is a harrowing month;

Our dreams the smoke that fills air

There's blood on my hands

I can't clean them

There's blood

Son of man

I give these words to eat

Bitter wine for you to drink

Four months full the rain leaves nothing left

But the roots go deeper than you think

There's blood on my hands

I can't clean them

There's blood

A kiss

Please don't forget the signs I've shown

A heel to bruise your head

The last I hope

The last I hope

The last I hope

The last I hope

We're to blame for all the marks on you

We're to blame for all the marks on you