Blood and Sand / Milk and Endless Waters (Live)

Born perfect

Perched atop the Spire

Nestled in the bosom of creation

Wounded once, never again

I'm building a cult around your figure

The saints, wanton

The idols present, the idle presence

The rituals dance, just out of reach

Just as any good conduit should dance

Just out of reach

Ten thousand, weary and wanton

Exhale the dust folded into my bootheals

And on and on they, to forever

Little arms toward heaven grasping

Eyes of milk and endless waters

Breathe, oh, islands breathe

And know that I have found you

Breathe, you women of circumstance

And know that we are intertwined

She rises, even now to the summit

She bows to cradle it, consuming

We are balanced, on one finger

We are softly

We are softly sung to sleep