Pincushion

Where the air hangs like the static of a dead end radio
I'm waiting with a frozen pulse

Crawl into an empty womb
Don't raise these dead
They've found their god in soil

Dry scab silhouettes
Tell the secrets of sewn mouths, my heart is a sore
But even charred faces crack smiles

Mismanufactured
Screaming like some faulty machinery
The overwhelming inefficiency of infants
Artificer stead me now
You've sewn a machine
You've birthed an abortion

The corpse of God is love
The corpse of God is love

I'm rotting, and I'm not yet dead
I'm the king of worms and I'll have your head

Resurrected roadkill, blueprinted skin
I swear I've never been here before
Everyone but me looks like they've seen a ghost

Everybody try to relax
Everybody please remain calm
All eyes fall on collapsing statues (I'm not supposed to be here anyways)
(Stop laughing, stop pointing)
There's nothing to see here

Divinity doesn't show what the stables hold
The scalpel proves my faith when he spits through his words
We traitors share our strings
We're suffocating under makeshift skin
Pull out the thread, sew on a heart, make peace with dirt