Mater Dolarosa
You've got a mommy problem
I wish you luck you little fuck
i am alleviation
I leave you ate my digest style
Consider consequences
You stretch the truth a country mile
False prophet accusations
the inquisition's still on file
Cause it's right
before... behind... your eyes
You've greased your machinations;
I don't see procreation blind
My mind's an open season,
synapses firing out of line
You think you love me dearly,
I fear you've told yourself a lie
You bathe in hesitation
I'll fall you some other time
I hear it all the time right
before... behind... your eyes
Sonata pretty ice queen
belief you brought me to my knees
She cutting teeth on kether
My anima, my Rosemary
My Mater Dolarosa,
convex the mirror in front of me
Belief in divination,
static resistance on the 3! 9! 3! 9!
cause it's right
before... behind... your eyes