The sad notes of a cathedral piano,
Weeping in rusted tone like an abused mistress.
Hands there twist her dry nipples,
In secrecy a covenant signed by in her growing fears.
Death she is promised through the blade’s kiss.
Yet still the twisting behind her cries like the night comes daily.
Prayers she hums in agonizing silence
To who does the harlot’s prayer go?
To the heavens that seem too far to hear i fear not.
Indeed there shall be a time to cry,
A time for the harlot’s cry to drown in her sin’s saliva,
Sin feeds on sin,