Omajod
Astrakhan
We suffer, why suffer more?
Why bother?
Seething, blaming me
Why bother?
Seething, blaming me
Worship those in control
Glass eyed cyclops
Bringer of blight, purveyor unknown
The sum unspeaking tongues, and voice that equal none
Amount to this God we’ve crafted from mud
Awake yet we wait
Enlivened we wander
Rejecting the pure, and corroding the song
Imbibe your cup awaits – incite the psalm
We house, feed and grow
Our voices sink and fold
Quiet
Voices sink and fold
Words so holy flow
Dry your eyes
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