Of The Wound Lyrics - Ashes - Christian Death

The cross pulled from his chest 

Raises a welt, leaden in every limb 

Sleep can watch for seizures 

The legless man had directed him to a window 

Window like blind eyes probed the mud 

The minutes that were left 

Ran across his throat stuffed with cotton 

And his mouth could hear the distant splashes 

A fever and his hand is worse 

In the silent film days 

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He must remain an enigma 

They climbed three flights of stairs to the night 

Like a hundred pieces of glass 

There were numerous outstretched hands throwing shadows, 

A pair of shadows 

Holding the three cornered hat of a cardinal 

We move on to snake venoms 

Photos 

Christ would spit on you 

And that's who you remind me of 

Beneath a musty green 

The wound appears to be dying