We start civilizations
You lust dehumanization
You can strew and you can stab
But there’s one thing you’ll never have
Culture stains
When boats rise, you’ll be lost at sea
Saddled, sultried
Dawn of morning, housed in the night
Sharpened bread knives
As we created life
And everybody knows
Bloom is off the rose
This cup of living milk
Cloth of woven silk
Washer woman
Lord master of the necropaths
Ghastly pride, abject need
The priestess still feeds them
Rise, in full plume
Time to dig a hole under a bloody moon
Sharpened bread knives
As we created life
And everybody knows
Bloom is off the rose