The Singer

Ahh...there she whispers, do you hear,
The deep melodic soul that echoes
twisting in my brain, sweetly insane so profane
is my desire, inner fire, to reach out and touch
with unclean hand, gods personal choir

To me she calls, singer of my heart ache
focus of my lust, her touch, her smell
I am fell, like titan slain, my brain, her humble slave
And when I say she sings I mean that it is God that calls
and my soul trembles and takes a knee, I can not see
she is glory so bright, my light, my life
she sings...

Do you hear, the Metatron speaks, The voice of god
is calling and I am falling, crawling hands and knees
like an infant bawling, for a mothers arms, her charms,
enchantress angel marbeline dream I scream
open thy pearly gates, for I am saved
open the door to thy breath, sing my death
wash me in the blood of your soul,
let me drink thy communion little savior
and let me tear away thy mortal garbs and taste
of your flesh

Daughter of the eastern star, sing my salvation,
muse of my passions, rouse my lust
sing my soul, I quiver I shiver I reach out
and grasp at a sliver, of thy iridescent breath
as it lingers, my fingers falter and I am left hungry...
for more of of thy sweet ambrosia
so desperate am I , to steal a taste of gods breath,
from your lips