Stigmata

Open wounds like the marks of christ
Bleeding from my wrists the veins are sliced
Ripping flesh as the blade sinks in like nails in my wrists
The ceremony begins

Bleeding out the holy ghost
The devil raises his glass as he proposes a toast
To the death of my flesh
To the death of my faith
As I’m nailed to the cross
And I’m consumed by hate

I bear the scars of christ
By the illusion of grace

Bleeding out the holy ghost
Nailed to the cross
My severed veins are drying out
Nailed to the cross
The crown of shame pierces my brow
Nailed to the cross
The crows of hell feast on my eyes
Nailed to the fucking cross

I bear the scars of christ
By the illusion of grace

I bear the scars of christ
By the illusion of grace