The Graft Sermons [ЖиЖА]

First incision at the witching stroke Lamplight flickers through the smoke A carriage rattles over cobblestone No one hears the splintered moan Down where the river blackens bone Thread through tendon, stitch through rust A silhouette of what was trust He scavenges the workhouse dead To crown a thing without a head A new design from borrowed flesh The fibers mesh, the fibers mesh Lantern gutters, reason bends The surgeon calls it making friends What crawls up from the slaughter slab? A graft of claw, a graft of scab A gospel carved in keloid scars Beneath a sky devoid of stars Kneel to the suture, kneel to the file The nightmare grins in victorian style Through gutters deep and gaslamp pall He stitches heaven to the crawl A crooked psalm, a septic bloom The creature rises from the gloom Porcelain fingers, borrowed spine A vertebrae from parish swine He hums a tune from childhood mass While grafting sinew onto glass No holy water, no last rite Just needle's kiss in candlelight The asylum walls are closing thin But Crowley's work must now begin What stirs behind the cellar door? A shape that wasn't there before A scripture writ in sepsis red A congregation of the dead Kneel to the suture, kneel to the file The nightmare grins in victorian style Through gutters deep and gaslamp pall He stitches heaven to the crawl A crooked psalm, a septic bloom The creature rises from the gloom Stitch breaks Thread snaps The breathing stops But the breathing starts again Down in the sewer Down in the mire A patchwork thing Calls him...