i wish there were no prophets/no preachers and no priests/no red-letter stranger talking terror/that holy men believe/avail and veil me/let not the sacred shadow fall on me/all this liturgy is a thin defense of artistry/our best organization/of the damnation of the time/blood and wine/just remind the soul and mind/that everything sacred leaves a stain/starting sunday night we hide/in carousels and wishing wells/and the seer has name i dare not say/and the lover/i dare not look him in the face/it will take my breath away/can't you see?/collide against the cornerstone/with bruises all on your bones/and the older you grow/the more they start to show/and he says, ‘draw near, draw near/to the darkness where i dwell/have i not had my fill/have i not had my fill/without my lord dressed to kill?/prechorus/sex and drugs and sleeping pills/crucified or deified/either one comes of fame/still all i am is human in a fading human frame/all i am is terrified that holiness/will make good on its claim/chorus/is this what holy men believe?

Hannah Hubin & Carousel Rogues