The Mercy Seat
It began when they come to took me
from my home And put me in Dead Row,
Of which I am nearly wholly innocent, you know.
And I'll say it again I am.. not.. afraid.. to die
I began to warm and chill
To objects and their fields,
A ragged cup, a twisted mop
The face of Jesus in my soup
Those sinister dinner meals
The meal trolley's wicked wheels
A hooked bone rising from my food
All things either good or ungood.
And the mercy seat is waiting
And I think my head is burning
And in a way I'm yearning
To be done with all this measuring of truth.
An eye for an eye A tooth for a tooth
And anyway I told the truth
And I'm not afraid to die.
Interpret signs and catalogue
A blackeed tooth, a scarlet fog.
The walls are bad. Black. Bottom kind.
They are the sick breath gathering at my hind
I hear stories from the chamber
How Christ was born into a manger
And like some ragged stranger
Died upon the cross
And might I say it seems so fitting in its way
He was a carpenter by trade
Or at least that's what I'm told.
Like my good hand I tatooed E.V.I.L.
across it's brother's fist That filthy five!
They did nothing to challenge or resist.
In Heaven His thorne is made of gold
The ark of His testament is stowed
A throne from which I'm told
All history does unfold.
Down here it's made of wood and wire
And my body is on fire
And God is never far away.
Into the mercy seat I climb
My head is shaved, my head is wired
And like a moth that tried
To enter the bright eye I go shuffling out of life
Just to hide in death awhile
And awnyway I never lied.
My kill-hand is called E.V.I.L.
Wears a wedding band that's G.O.O.D.
'Tis a long-suffering shackle
Collaring all that revel blood.
And the mercy seat is waiting
And I think my head is burning
And in a way I'm yearning
To be done with all this measuring of truth.
And the mercy seat is burning
And I think my head is glowing
And in a way I'm hoping
To be done with all this weighing up of truth.
And the mercy seat is glowing
And I think my head is smoking
And in a way I'm hoping
To be done with all these looks of disbelief.
And the mercy seat is smoking
And I think my head is melting
And in a way I'm helping
To be done with all this twisting of the truth.
And the mercy seat is melting
And I think my head is boiling
And in a way I'm spoiling
All the fun with all this truth and consequence.
And the mercy seat is waiting
And I think my head is burning
And in a way I'm yearning
To be done with all this measuring of proof.
And the mercy seat is waiting
And I think my head is burning
And in a way I'm yearning
To be done with all this measuring of truth,
A lie for a lie And a truth for a truth
And I've got nothing left to lose
And I'm not afraid to die.
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