2Jesus Christ, Not Excalibur (a prayer)
When the rain falls cold and the ground grows hard
And the dark skies flash a million white hot scars
Intense bright lines as I break down in the shards
That fall from the blackness reaching above,
Jesus Christ I don't fear the blood on my hands,
But Jesus Christ where will the lost souls fall?
How can he fight when he keeps holding on
To the sword in the stone that his heart has become?
And the vacant expanse all around won't attract
All those white hot scars streaming down from the sky,
Like the tears streaming down falling the wrong way—
Leading down to the sword, lighting up his collapse.
Jesus Christ where I stand, so thoughtfully numb,
Can you save me when I cannot look up from this blade
Sticking through from above my inverted world;
If I let go will you let me fall from my plane?
Or can you still save me from her?
When the rain falls cold and the ground grown hard
And the dark skies flash a million white hot scars
Intense bright lines as I break down in the shards
That fall from the blackness reaching above,
Jesus Christ I don't fear the blood on my hands,
But Jesus Christ where will the lost souls fall?
Jesus Christ and Excalibur doom him to this choice,
He cannot demand if the words he can't voice,
And the tears chocking up in his drowning heart's dice,
Stuck on double ones; stuck on the Devil's snake eyes.
When the rain falls cold and the ground grown hard
And the dark skies flash a million white hot scars
Intense bright lines as I break down in the shards
That fall from the blackness reaching above,
Jesus Christ I don't fear the blood on my hands,
But Jesus Christ where will the lost souls fall?
On the other side of his dark inverted plane,
Where men flock to attempt at that pommel once his
In the sunshine and fresh air she basks in your grace,
Has the high ground where forgotten, he hangs on underneath,
Where gravity pulls down in the hail and abyss—
And he can't see your face,
And he can't see your face,
And I can't see your face,
And I can't see your face…