but it’s not a question of linguistics
We could swim to heaven and back
in the tears you have cried with
And the story that would be told
would also include our strife
It would take a million prayers
to get us back into the book of life
And who could be that righteous, who set that bar
What cat invented this rat race no one’s won so far?
It is the loudest hinge that requires
the most oil to silence it
It was our own desperation
that required a fiend instead of deliverance
And when it was bread that was needed
we needed you to offer only cake
Because any other sustenance
would not have filled that type of sate
Otherwise, who would be the devil, who would be the blame?
Who would absorb the blood spilled in this world filled with pain?
There is a notch for the neck and who's can we slide?
The people thirst for grapes and you smell of wine
Your adversaries gain adversaries
though none are allies to you
Your fingerprints aren’t on stolen diamonds
Though we have drawings of you
Drawings of you as a molester
drawings of you as a whore
but what photograph or record exists
to show your insalubrities or more
Which image will be shown to your children at play?
And if asked about their mother, what would they say?
If only they existed long enough to face such a query
If only they existed long enough to have such a misery
If only the tears you cried
could have told your story
And if only
we could have understood
There was a notch for the neck and it was yours that would slide
There was a thirst for grapes you smelled like wine
You would be the devil, you would be the blame
You would absorb the blood spilled in this world filled with pain
We would be the righteous, we would set that bar
We were the cats that invented this rat race, and this would be our hour
There were drinks and celebration to have your body on the hook
It will take a million prayers to get our names back into the book
of life
It will take a million prayers to get our names back into the book
of life
little Marie
It will take a million
