The Gilded Spirit Lyrics

The moon will come through the black of night
Shining gold and silver, all alight
The pauper laid in his lonely grave
No one to mourn his unsung name

This wretched creature, who walks wearing rags
Stands before me, his soul in his hands
What care should I give to the practically dead?
Presenting his wealth from the hole in his head

Let the light shine forever
Ties to the past we all must sever
The rising moon, the cold of the truth
Why should I care for anything but your value?

Where's your heart? Locked up tight
The hand behind the fading eyes
Strings of gold, silver puppet
Dance for me, marionette

This emaciated street-worn heathen
Prostrating before me, displaying his weakness
Tear your heart from your well worn chest
And burn it as an offering to the holy In death

Let the light shine forever
Ties to the past we all must sever
The rising moon, the cold of the truth
Why should I care for anything but your value?

What is a spirit without a material form?
I have never felt a wound, you are an open sore
Tell me again, why should I care for a dying god?
Life in death, are you already so fucking lost?

What is a spirit without a material form?
I have never felt a wound, you are an open sore
Tell me again, why should I care for a dying god?
Life in death, are you already so fucking lost?