Orphan Songtext
von Patrons of the Rotting Gate

A lamb to be weaned from the altar, calmly led by the authors of soulless words
Shepherding them from a serene ancestral bed; gilded and radiant, a monolith of elation

Engulfed in saccharine rain, spewing sentences circular that orbit the temples, a golden halo
Purge the eyes of what he saw


Through his breaking fingers veil;
Twin pillars of white, wrapped in two snakes
A creaking staircase to the soil

A mirage? The burning sword? And the gloried shield that shelters the flock?

The afterimage of light rots; The beating heart, our second-hand breath dissolving in the sun

To be one orphan, just one in the pile of decomposing figures
Not an extension of one, no trace of shared divinity; a void of worth