Letra de Museum Of Iscariot

Jesus lies dying in my bed Companions since birth In this stagnant dingy haunt He has never really lived Last night I beat him As he would not leave My insane eyes stare at him As his wilted body bleeds Frequently I rape him As I know nothing else He curls up like a foetus And paints his face with sadness Now a fragment Of remorse is etched I bandage his wounds I kiss the face of Jesus Christ But he is dead What can I do? You've forsaken me You called yourself messiah And expected me to follow And now he lays dead And your prophesies with him I will bury him not As insult to your face As I stare at his corpse One detail disturbs me His cold, stark finger Points where I have not been From my house The cage of rotten wood I stumble forth To lay beneath the bush Withered bones groan I cultivate As the soil and I grow closer The Sun receives an empty gaze It mourns It knows my life is gone No more to offer But my flesh to this soil And a single tear Marks my final prayer The rosebud sits In the palm of your hand As I end, this flower blossoms