The Number Twelve Looks Like You

Jesus and Tori


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The soiled ground for the sacrifice
dispelled crippling, faulty, holyland
i am your martyr, your stigmata..

The tears turn to blood beneath my eyes..
my body listens..as you whisper
my fingers bend.

As I'm nailed your cross
the splinters etch..hearts in my back
i denounce this crucifixion, i demand another sacrifice.

A cast shadow over this narrow hill
pulling my fingers from these nails from these..
there will be no use for a second coming.

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