Lord our Lord, broken cry we
fear pain pretended anomalies and all the
wary hatreds of the soul, oh Lord.
Yes hell has us. Yes
fortune found us ticking tongues
trying long to light the earth on fire,
Lord. Our Lord. Who has kept us
blindly apart from the flames that consume
and the mouths we taste good to,
but yours. Feed and feed on us,
oh jealous God, our all-consuming Ever-Burn-Bright.