You beat on a drum
Eurhythmic in time, meant for beauty but now out of rhyme
Out of sinc
Out of breath
The blood flies high
The blood flies wide
When the shadow passes, and the blood falls
The altar calls
Who's the Kinsman Redeemer
Who's your Kinsman Redeemer

I cannot just stand here and wait
For the eurhythmic march of man's gifted gait

Lost our pace in this race
Tripped up by the current like a whore living in fantasy
Like a tourniquet it wraps itself around the ankles
And infects the heart until a truth bleeds a lie
And the whole world cries

But I would rather walk with the sheep in the shit
Than with the wolves on the other side of the fence.