I can’t find that thorn
in my paw or in my side
I can’t seem to find the
magic spell to turn the tide
I can’t walk on water
no matter how he beckons me
I’ll end up where I belong
after the father reckons me
The mission of the lamb
seemed like a rose without a thorn
Down here evil persists
bred in the bone of each newborn
the scientists discovered
to the height of mortal irony
that sinning is innate
it’s fucking true so just don’t pile on me
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