It is their war
But I am the trigger made
After the scenes of their sins
Scene 2 is atonement, me to mop
Familiar with no blood but many riffles
Before I greet Mother Earth
A hand is upon me to transfer their sins
My cross is asleep in their sheets
Buried in thin air before I breathe
Lacking blemishes is my own sin
I’m no. 1 on their diet
The key to their riches and splendour
Nudity betrays me in my apparel
Purity makes me their perfect lamb
I lose my playground for some fields
I wail but the verses of mute tunes
I am encouraged only by the whips
The blanket is a fairy tale
LOVE has gone the way of my ancestors
The youngest messiah I am
To carry their cross is my lot
I came to live but for their crosses
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