Stuck in the middle I burrow inside Back to the cradle Away from the burdens Of all my crimes Before it's fatal The past has found me The truth come
And Mary and David smoke dung in the trenches While Zion's behaviour never gets mentioned. The writings On your wall And the blood on the cradle And
greed and twisted law Handmaidens of a holy war Bring on a thousand roses more I am the thorn I am the thorn I am the thorn I am the thorn I am the
most basic ingredients To see the unseen glitter of life And feel the dirt, grief, anger and strife Cherish the certainly of now It kills you a bit at a time Cradle
basic ingredients To see the unseen glitter of life And feel the dirt, grief, anger and strife Cherish the certainly of now It kills you a bit at a time Cradle
the graveyard to the cradle All the bells of wonder chime No further complication Here for the queen or for the pawn Night of such revelation The Jew is trembling on the thorn
Life goes on like a carousel Life goes on, a never-ending tale Of love reborn, from the cradle warm A web is spun for every mother's son Life goes on
the sun And pluck me from my ripeness As passion dies As love itself has failed And unto the earth we thrive Of acorns that gather and cradle to kindest
on the frightened man Bring her sweet peace ere she rests on the breast of God With the nutrnegs and oak-apples of her rosary That counts the praying sand Who cradles
. Fuck. Structural droids; more bangs for the buck But they want a last stegosaurs - thorns in the glove (buck wit' it!) Prehistoric land shark business, cradling
And they have left their mark. The Glamour is shed to reveal The world's ugliness to be all that is real I call upon the thorns of the hedge To join
to cruelty Crushed 'neath the gait of Her dance A whirlwind of fire that swept through the briers Of sweet rose Her thickets of black thorn had grasped
precious ways I was burned, a sacerdotal soul By the Demon Queen of my dreams Infatuation turned to total control Her rose was sweet But her thorns were
lustre Sighting my recitals on the rites of vice Perverting virtue Enslaving grace Behind the glittering mask of pride Saving face finding thorns to
may spy us here And quicken the pulse of dawn Embering flames writhe to life again The starry brow threshed with poisonous thorn Huntress, draw back
