Curdled milk in wine   The lingering taste of yesterday   My color has grown pale   Your face I see no more   A pointed finger accuses me    So dead, so numb, so cold   With every illicit embrace   A splintered soul is cast aside      If I see the face of God I will die...   It's killing me slowly   A drop of blood day by day   My mind defiles its temple   My mansion shared with swine   My seed mixing in a harlot's womb   How many bastards will I create?   Will I see my dead expression?   And failures in their eyes      If I see the face of God I will die!   Cut my cord, let me drift away   This morning's foul, I can endure no more   My days are cruel   My mistress never slumbers   And sorrow never leaves me   Like the cuts in my flesh   And the sun refuses to shine   And the walls rile against me   And these knuckles raw and broken   The futile throes of freedom      And somewhere, a saint is weeping   Whispering my name   Saying, "Let him see the face of God   Let him die."