He slid a blade under my throat, flat edge of the razor on my neck
A moment, if he'd acted I'd be bleeding, caught in a mirror in death
He wants me to just die, he wants all that I am, wants all my flesh
Trapped in the bleeding mirror as life forms painted black and then
The world is hungry, but not for food, nor power, nor even still gold
Fetished gods flayed on altars, worshiping icons, that will call you
Nothing's too late, too depraved to save, nothing too unimportant
Some who practice being fetish bearers, generally choose to do it
The waves have broken all of us, and we waited as have always
I am unable to decide, should I die or flee and leave it far away
“No one saves us but ourselves. No one can and
no one may. We ourselves must walk the path.”
