Alive & Dead

My tortured soul, alive and dead, a cultic war, a murky red.
And symbol core, the vox of life, a devil’s tear, a yogis’
Light. My Father pang, a fantast live, the sin of life, afraid
To die. But deacon flight, a Bishop brain, a bless-ed storm,
A sea of pain. And frantic prayer, a phantom scar, the
Praise of God, the plight of stars. My graphic love, to
Sway and sail, a sudden death, the breath of hell. But clay
To nib, the rib of love, the lure of life, a mystic flood.

My tortured soul, alive and dead, a cultic war, a murky red.
And phantom flare, the flail of flame, a pagan prayer, a
Life of bane. My sore to bone, a wisdom fair, the weight of
Woe, a biblic tare. But pulse to God, the blood of light, the
Lux of love, a Jewish plight. For heart to Christ, the
Breadth of praise, the script of soul, the sight of waves.