The Tide Pulls From The Moon

So like your Father in the face and blood Terrified and cold And whispers The coming of a cleansing flood For you You hide your Filthy hands from all of us Still unseen and tied What water These killing hands could ever clean Still you run I want to be changed from The shadow and the tomb Like water rushing over us The tide pulls from the moon Your mother The passing of a silver ring Oversized and cold This specter Will walk the halls of every seed From you I want to be changed from The shadow and the tomb Like water rushing over us The tide pulls from the moon The tide pulls from the moon The tide pulls from the moon.

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