The Bell That Wouldn't Chime (LIVE in Bumblef-)

"Bonesy protects us from the mice."

"And Prudie protects us from the sadistic fuckin' leper monks!"

[Verse 1]
You lit your tapers in the lung-sick dark,
Sang your psalms with a leechbite lark.
You kissed the ash on a flayed man’s brow,
And sewed your oaths for a broken vow.

Fuckin' chapel's full of echoed moans,
Your hymns are screamed in monotone.
And every mercy you ever knew—
Fuckin' bled it out like blackened glue.

SOOOO...

[Chorus]
Go stitch your lips to hold your lies,
Go flay your skin to sanctify.
Go burn the books that speak of grace,
And carve your law in someone’s face.
Go lance your boils, go drink your pus—
Fuckin' peace and love have scabbed to crust.
And high above your flies and grime...
Still hangs the bell that wouldn’t chime.

[Verse 2]
She came in silence, no incense burned,
No veil of threats, no heads to turn.
She wore no cross, she bore no scroll—
Just steel and Prudence in her soul.

You called her heretic, beast, and whore,
You nailed dead cats to the chapel door.
But still she walked through stench and hate—
To watch your gospel suffocate

[Chorus]
Go stitch your lips to hold your lies,
Go flay your skin to sanctify.
Go burn the books that speak of grace,
Fuckin' carve your law in someone’s face.
Go lance your boils, go drink your pus—
Your peace and love have scabbed to crust.
And high above your flies and grime...
Still hangs the bell that wouldn’t chime.

[Bridge]
One monk wept.
He snipped the threads that sealed his mouth,
Peeled back the bandage rotting south.
Cleansed the wounds that bred the blight,
And wrapped up clean in linen white.

The rest stayed blind in blood-soaked hoods,
Praising the rot they mistook for God.

[Verse 3]
She leaves no life, no martyr's shrine—
Just walks alone past twitching spines.
No eulogy, no light from above—
Just silence slick with jellied blood.

Their hoods lie still, their entrails black,
No chants remain to draw her back.
And high above the corpse-thick grime,
The cracked old bell begins to fuckin' chime.

[Final Chorus]
So, stitch your lips to hold your lies,
Go flay your skin to sanctify.
Go burn the books that speak of grace,
And carve your law in someone’s face.
Go lance your boils, go drink your pus—
Your peace and love have scabbed to crust.
And high above your flies and grime...
The penance made — the fuckin' bell now chimes.

"My sister, the bad-ass!"

2374/7500

"Bonesy protects us from the mice." "And Prudie protects us from the sadistic fuckin' leper monks!" [Verse 1] You lit your tapers in the lung-sick dark, Sang your psalms with a leechbite lark. You kissed the ash on a flayed man’s brow, And sewed your oaths for a broken vow. Fuckin' chapel's full of echoed moans, Your hymns are screamed in monotone. And every mercy you ever knew— Fuckin' bled it out like blackened glue. SOOOO... [Chorus] Go stitch your lips to hold your lies, Go flay your skin to sanctify. Go burn the books that speak of grace, And carve your law in someone’s face. Go lance your boils, go drink your pus— Fuckin' peace and love have scabbed to crust. And high above your flies and grime... Still hangs the bell that wouldn’t chime. [Verse 2] She came in silence, no incense burned, No veil of threats, no heads to turn. She wore no cross, she bore no scroll— Just steel and Prudence in her soul. You called her heretic, beast, and whore, You nailed dead cats to the chapel door. But still she walked through stench and hate— To watch your gospel suffocate [Chorus] Go stitch your lips to hold your lies, Go flay your skin to sanctify. Go burn the books that speak of grace, Fuckin' carve your law in someone’s face. Go lance your boils, go drink your pus— Your peace and love have scabbed to crust. And high above your flies and grime... Still hangs the bell that wouldn’t chime. [Bridge] One monk wept. He snipped the threads that sealed his mouth, Peeled back the bandage rotting south. Cleansed the wounds that bred the blight, And wrapped up clean in linen white. The rest stayed blind in blood-soaked hoods, Praising the rot they mistook for God. [Verse 3] She leaves no life, no martyr's shrine— Just walks alone past twitching spines. No eulogy, no light from above— Just silence slick with jellied blood. Their hoods lie still, their entrails black, No chants remain to draw her back. And high above the corpse-thick grime, The cracked old bell begins to fuckin' chime. [Final Chorus] So, stitch your lips to hold your lies, Go flay your skin to sanctify. Go burn the books that speak of grace, And carve your law in someone’s face. Go lance your boils, go drink your pus— Your peace and love have scabbed to crust. And high above your flies and grime... The penance made — the fuckin' bell now chimes. "My sister, the bad-ass!"

0/500