Joseph the Violent

Joseph cant give it up tonight. Swimming away in this grave, they tell me to hold on to my clothes, cause their gonna strip me of my bravery.

Joseph cant give it up tonight. The grown men will shake my hand and look me in the eye. But things have gone terribly wrong and we all know it. The years are all just whispers to the elderly children. Whispers of truths and lies. Whispers that make the women weep, and make the men rage inside. And we rage away, and take away until they all go away. And I've been learning, real well, how to die.

Joseph cant give it up tonight. I gotta make it through. The morning is coming, and

I. Do. Not. Want. To. Be. To. Deep. To. See.

Whisper me a storm. There is a deeper voice inside my gut.

No its beneath my guts and organs, beyond my brain, down deep in the cavern of my soul. There is a king writing my destiny upon its earthen walls. Thoroughly yet quietly he dies to make himself known to me. Now the light rides his fingertips up and down upon the obsidian, carving his beautiful name onto me.

Joseph cant give it up tonight. Cause he knows he has to get there. Those horsemen couldn't catch. Cause Joseph, he might not be the fastest, but he's a violent punk-saint-radical. You know, the kind we dont like.

Psalv Muron sunk me deep.

Propositions and words wont do it for me. I have pull myself through the waters, before my supply runs out. But even with the oxygen, my head still spins. Holding my eyes open seems to have the same effect as when my eyes are closed.

Cold darkness runs across my neck pulling at my emotions, and it claws for more. But its all I got in this empty black sea. We drift aimlessly apart, and my consistency seems to be failing me. It all dissolves in the pointless blank terror. This horrible membrane is against me, on every step shame arises, and steals and cheats me out of what I need.

I am thrashing, and shouting and singing and hurting, but I am still here. I will have to defeat this tempest here.