Album: Beating Back the Claws of the Cold
poor old ra you were much better off as a sun god weren't ya
no one gives a shit about your falcon head anymore
atet sunk down somewhere off the coast of new brunswick or the arctic
sektet sunk with horus stoned at the wheel
with every oil slick and passing barge, the chances that you are go down but with your feet in the egyptian sand, this weak little shell of a man falls away
I know that the plight of the morning's light will not let you love me and baby you got stitches that will tell me differently
when it's a patchwork of click and something that sounds like a beak break bonesaw it's good enough for ra but it's not good enough for me
as derelict you come off slow, even in the kitty jail you where calico and as the prisoner in the chains arrive, catcalls baring teeth come from every side
with every oil slick and passing barge, the chances that you are go down but with you feet in the egyptian sand, this weak little shell of a man falls away
I am the tension, you are the tightrope... you grabbed the last little straw that was hidden in your own forearm
I am the tension, you are the tightrope... you came prepared with a gun that was hidden in your own stone vest
I am the tension, you are the tightrope... part this pharoah with his crown when he is leaning on this cane, and isis...
will steal all secrets
I am the tension, you are the tightrope... benu that bird of ra with the collar of a snake, uraeus...
and plays with solar
I am the tension, you are the tightrope... hathor had changed to the lion and will always be combined, with sekmet...
and will kill all approaching
I am the tension, you are the tightrope... so give me a moment with her name and I'll see if I can tame, fell beast...
and as thoth I will bring her back