Testo di 'Sodom And Gomorah' di Chris Juris

From a foundered bar and out of the night that I spent drinking with drones
Into the misty Sunday morning blurring my vision and chilling my bones
I'm walking along the rows of the sleeping bums with faces of reality
Rust-red from facing the drizzling sky, chapped by the cold like the crumbling walls I pass

A huddled mass of rags and woe appears before me on the side of the road
I feel an empty callous sneer, another wasted life to bear
I shoot my eyes away onto the cobblestones, grab a cigarette inside my coat
Flashing arch of fire touches my tongue, I inhale as the smoke rolls round my lungs

And as I close my mind to this modern leprosy
His blood-red eyes leapt inside me

'God sent me here' he spoke in raspy tones, to friend the drunk, the sick, the weak and low
I've got an angle sidewalk style, skidrow Samaritans soothe men as they die
Sit for a moment, toss me a smoke, visions flash so clear, time is growing short
There's an emptiness deep we're all trying to fill, the more we consume, the less we feel

And my boots turned to flee from this inconsistency
But fire-blue words pierced like arrows and held me...he said:

In the candlelight of the dark hearts of men here in Sodom
Red angels cast silk shadows on these ancient walls
Raven screams as the number of prey increases
So many are lost, proud in their ignorance
Feel the wind change, hallowed in cursed days
I look inside and there's no answer within
And so I scream towards heaven aiming for that light
Through the colour of my smoke covered sin

Time lowers the coffin another spade is dealt into my hand
Better get the cards straight as the years turn into sand
Dear God above, won't you save my blistering soul
Before the fire burns and man rages out of control

Then clear eyes flash grey, gold face snaps pale, and back he slid to these rails
I watch a toothless blackened grin wrinkle up the folds of his yellowed skin
Run a hand through my hair to sweep the cobwebs free, entranced by this insanity
Just gleaning from the prophet? Denying the fanatic? Faced with confusion, voices echo

chorus: ad lib.