Avoidance Ritual
I'll be your Judas, lined up on the wall
I'll be the wing man taking the fall
I'll be your realist, pummeled to dust
I'll be your Judas thrown under the bus
The hated one to break the news that there's only two rooms in your father's house
Both filled like a fountain with expired wishful thoughts
It's not your hell or heaven to cast me to, to promise or threaten
For mine is the void, the Kingdom of Nothing
As above, so below, both sides of the curtain
All malice and power and scraps for the faithful
You can swallow crosses to the hilt, swallow narratives greased up with guilt
But you can't pray your way clear of the gnawing doubt
So I'll be your Judas, wrecking the shot
Excised from the final cut
Written out of Glory
The cynic at the gates that any god worth their salt could appreciate
I'll be your Judas
You're going to need some realist
