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Leviathan -- your virgin skin
Vulture's saliva that drips like morphine
Sick on the switchblade tongue of our mother
Sick on her fingers stuck in our mouths
Sick on the dust and the razorwire
And the bodies of the locusts upon my crown
Sick on the water we've drawn from the river
Sick on the poison that seeps into this ground
When the last of the flowers is torn from the field
And they've left our mother bleeding in the dirt
When the last pale horse lies broken and diseased
Will there be enough blood upon this ****ing earth?
Never will there be enough
Famine -- the hungry flies feed on the lilies and the skin of the wicked
War -- to seed the earth with flesh upon the altar of decimation
Pestilence -- to consume the innocence left in the hearts of the unafflicted
Death -- the shrieking angel, the soil left cold and fallow in his wake
Never will there be enough blood upon this earth
