Throat Of The False Prophet Lyrics

I tremble, all my bones shatter
As a drunkard, overcomed with excess - fallen
My ears itch from the rattling of their hearts
They too shall be silenced

A plethora of dreams to be dreamt
Of sights to be seen, I have to show them
I am the way, the Truth!

Oh hear thee -

Reap my harvest, the sweetest of grapes
Your will is your father’s desires,
Dine with Him at our table
For your works, your toil
Is our own

The hands that labor are as fsts holding
The noose at the neck of their martyrs
“Yet in like manner these people also,
relying on their dreams, defle the fesh,
reject authority, and blaspheme the glorious ones”

Woe to you - who drinketh wine as blood
For fallacies of disdain will become as daggers
Widening the eyes of seers, prophetising the dawn
Beware - let not thyself be led astray!

A plethora of dreams to be dreamt
A palette of sensations, dilemmas of the fesh
To be held and felt
I am the way, the Truth, I am the Thorn
Burying at his head, drinking his blood

I too ablaze, unburnt - speaking unheard
Weaved into his crown - I am the way
I am the Thorn, melded into his fesh