ruby hilted swords,
striking the mortal cords,
huge violent serpents in volumes rolled,
all holy poisons poured in cups of gold.
Ooh these instruments so blessed and old,
here lay death's sceptre ---
truth untold without mercy or
Love, forgiveness --- excile me,
blades of goodness set me free,
madness my destiny,
alone forever excile me.
bright lightnings set brave souls free,
past God's blind eyes through infinity,
of all these vessels transformed to clay,
rich ashes blown to dust --- swept away!
Now take me steel to the gift of skies,
deliver me from weakness from this flesh that rides.
Whithout pity or
Ooh to think how pleasant your touch would be,
in that all my lovely limbs would fall away,
and drop into nothing in their soft decay.
Unto my frail heart,
the worms shall find a door,
enter the weary pulp --- into the core!