In the midst of [bad word] sits a scarlet woman bare
Bearing arms of blooded silver sitting stalwart on a mare
She has journeyed through salvation she has journeyed all alone
She has journeyed through the twilight to find shelter in the sun
Lashed inside a raven corset wearing heels immersed in ash
Underneath her raven cloister she is blooded, [bad word] and scratched
She has journeyed through forever turning feathers into stone
Dressed in nothing but her girdle she bears carnage in her soul

In the midst of blood and fire sits a scarlet woman still
She is waiting [bad word] waiting patiently, tranquil
She has journeyed through purgation watching crimson turn to black
She is waiting for perfection scratching symbols in her back
Clenching hands reveal a dagger made of silver, made of led
She is cutting crests of crimson carving symbols in the dead
From the apex of perfection hangs the loving Jesus crowned
Crowned in thorns of misconception as a beacon to the blind

In the midst of my desires sits a scarlet woman pure
She has journeyed through the slaughter to unveil the [bad word] of four
Lashed inside her blooded girdle she is waiting for the rain
To deliver her from evil and deliver her from pain
Only seconds after waiting golden rain begins to fall
It relieves her aching body and revives the burning soil
As a consequence of murder foursome rises from the dew
To desire more than nothing is a hunger of the few.

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