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 fists holding

The noose at the neck of their martyrs

“Yet in like manner these people also,

relying on their dreams, defile the flesh,

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 flesh

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 flesh