The Disciple
Lying on the floor, I hear it pounding down the door; All them fuzzy, awful thoughts are floating into shore; See these broken strings, you tore them with your lazy heart; The wind in our open, tired grave - it's tearing us apart; Cry! Oh angel cry; Your favorite disciple is tearing out his eyes; All the things these eyes have seen, this time they've really crossed the line; I think I'll pack up all my shit and cross to Palestine; Strip down all my clothes, I'm gonna run into the wild; Leave you with my bitter wounds, leave you with my pride; Cry! Oh angel cry; Your favorite disciple is tearing out his eyes; 