Blood on the Map

From fire, we wake Into cold desolate Condemned infancy Senses reeling for a taste of malady Open arteries are dripping with the juice Sweet salvation from the hunt This intoxicating fruit Fertile crescent dilating with the seed Sedentary occupation Festering atrocity We prey upon the tiger Running from the bull In the shadow of the horns We pray unto the storm To pump blood into the veins Forcing life against the grain Justified to execute These instructions absolute Drink deeply, the juice Stack your temples tall Hang your gardens high Lest another harlot find his eye Visage of god The guise we choose Flesh facade so easily removed But what crime deserves this curse of sentience? No way back to sweet, sublime incognizance No man is nomad in this cathartic wasteland As savage gateways open; choose a side the future beckons Born from the ash, it is time to rise Blood on the map, it is time to rise Blind and grotesque, it is time to rise Burn what is left, it is time to rise