I'm not one of the faithful,
I've only come for your wine,
And I'd give my soul
For an endless cup,
Show me where to sign.
The preacher grew horns.
His head like a goat,
He passed me the cup
And the wine flowed like blood
As it poured down my throat.
For your mortal soul
This cup that never goes empty.
I slaughtered the flock
And the blood flowed like wine,
Then I slashed my own neck
Into a crooked smile
From ear to ear
Down my chest
And the blood flowed like wine
Until I was dry.
Well, the joke is on you.
I've sinned all of my life
I've lied
And wronged and cheated
And butchered my wife,
So I'll drink from this cup
And soon I'll be lit,
But the wine flowed like blood
Through the hole
That I cut in my neck
I've reaped what I've sowed,
So this is my lot
And I'm given the curse
Of an unending thirst,
But can't quench my desire,
So the joke is on me,
The emptiness mine.
My body's a cup
That cant hold a soul
Of withered old pine.
And the blood flowed through the aisles of the church
And the souls filled the steeple.
They opened the doors
And the blood flowed like wine
From all the dead people.