III: Yirah

We see these faces as ourselves Flesh hanging off the bone You wouldn’t recognize yourself With the skin removed “The body is a concept” One as fragile as your skin One cut of the blade And your life slips away Time, death… birth, and laughter The great deceiver in the reflection of our faces In Babylon they trade flesh for plastic And God looks down in pity Morbid doctrines from carnal priests I wish you all to see I wish you all, deceased