Lay your body down
Come crawl beneath the dirty sky
It is the year of the knife
And the knife has no loyalties
They’ll take our women as their wives
In secret and in royalty
We must kill them to survive
To live and love eternally
Who knows what we’ll find?
The fear no longer haunts me Under the last of the Anunnaki Kings & Cowboys
Where the winter’s made of ash
And ash from the color grey
Surveying the new arrivals
And feeling the pulse of the rain
Old smoke & bones
Haunting the cloaked pages of the Bible
Ask Doyle, he knows
Sweat and sin
Been dogging him for miles
A gutted moan
Some chiseled stone
A law that been broke like bread
Between two lovers in exile
I saw my angel fall
Picked her from the wrist
Cleaned her dirty dress
All the salt was stone
And pillared bone
As we turned our gaze back
To the fire…
There is no time to cry
For this is the Year of the Knife