So like your 
Father in the face and blood 
Terrified and cold 
And whispers  [bad word] of a cleansing flood 
For you 

You hide your 
Filthy hands from all of us 
Still unseen and tied 
What water
These killing hands could ever clean 
Still [bad word] 

I want to be changed from 
The shadow and the tomb 
Like [bad word] over us 
The tide pulls from the moon 

Your mother 
The passing of a silver ring 
Oversized and cold 
This specter 
Will walk the halls of every seed 
From you 

I want to be changed from 
The shadow and the tomb 
Like [bad word] over us 
The tide pulls from the moon
The tide pulls from the moon
The tide pulls from the moon.