The bells are ringing underground The prophets crawl without a sound A crooked crown, a blinded eye The Sibyl wakes to watch us die Bell towers cough blackened hymns Every street a mass grave grown The children gather broken teeth And build an altar out of bone A thousand candles turn to flies The incense thickens in the throat She reads the future in the wounds Of kings who died without a vote Rotten Sibyl! Crowned in blight! Prophet of the dying light! Rotten Sibyl! Speak the word! Tell us what the dead have heard! Her velvet robes are crawling skin Her golden rings are rusted nails She sells tomorrow to the blind And hangs their tongues upon the scales The bishops drink from hollow skulls The streets are paved with broken vows She whispers every name to come And every living forehead bows Rotten Sibyl! Crowned in blight! Prophet of the dying light! Rotten Sibyl! Speak the word! Tell us what the dead have heard! Rot From the crown Through the spine Into the womb She is the wound She is the doom Rot From the crown Through the spine Into the womb She is the wound She is the doom
