2ConfessionOn a sacred oak benchash-stained knees strike dustaccrued in unkempt yearsof dishonor, disuse, and disdain.In midst of despair,they pine for its unkind comfort.Crimson hands clasp, embrace, cowerin the corner under chilling fearand shadow of the towering fatherbaring and bearing the judge's silhouette,the one obelisk of obsidian terrorobstructing their flight to the lighttrickling through the distant door ajar.Like the tail of his enamored fury,round and round the rosary drips,whips sin from sullied palmsno cloth could ever wipe clean.Voices beaten beneath the torrent of Hailand Glory and Our Fatherdemand reprieve from reprimandof the mother looking on in lamentation.Everything ends in weakness.The greatest repentance spawnsfrom the shame left in her eyes their path better left untaken.
4six minutesAs if to seek what must be found,hands prepare to clasp to prayThey make their way to higher groundHand and hand run round and round- they've never known another way -They only seek what must be foundUnto midnight, the path is bound they have no choice; they must obey.They make their way to higher groundBegging all to hear their sound,desperate for the coming dayIs it this they seek which must be found?In fear their voices might be drowned,The beast inside prepares the frayThey make their way to higher groundTime won't let them turn aroundThey haven't the strength to tell him 'nay'As if to seek what must be found,they make their way to higher ground
6Thawing earth hastens the descent through December.Slow sand, relish your passerbypassing by, what hellish surprise,no disguise, fear too wide for his eyes.Hand high for the spade hung lowsolo, so low blades of grass crash,clash on steel tip of toe,sway below like hangman's row.Broken red river, flow free,follow the moon under night's sea,free, free to fleethe early ray's siegeonly to be laid, belayed,waste by the freezing breeze.So seize and slip. The funnel tunneldrips, dropslike a river, never stopsfor a bold bookie rookie holderbetting on the flopdealt by a flapperflipping lies for a highbut idol stars don't idle shine,they have to fly.Thereby, he sought the skybut found no heaven, no surprise.Coup de sigh, kudasai,he begs the black reaper, "why?"only enough to coerce a "nice try."To the earth from his hearse,they skipped the sickbed,laid his head, and readbut he never heard his final verse.