Blood Red And Christmas Green Testo

Burnt by ivory dust
holds his blades like they're sharp
He lived his life in a series of bows
made his incision and laid himself down

bulbs in the darkness, light up the tree
a mixture of crimson and perfect evergreen
he folded his hands with a white covered cross
asked for forgiveness, but whats God really lost
then died.
his children found him late after
strewn by their gifts
like a pile of rotted fruit
imagine their mother, with a ghost by her side
but lays with another, where her new one resides

A note in their stocking too late to read
he'd left them a gift not on christmas but its eve
He'd punctured his wrist with an object so blunt
and not God's forgiveness, but that which of his son

He lays there, impatient, with tears in his eyes.
they're blood red and christmas green
blood red and christmas in his eyes