[Verse 1] Forgive me, father—my sins have roots, They claw where your blessings won’t reach. Should I bow disgraced? Or spit at the pew? Your scripture’s a rusted speech. The altar cracks, the chalice spills… I’ll drink my penance from broken hills. Branded guilty… branded free— The thorn’s my covenant… it prays through me. [Chorus 1] I am the wound… I am the knife, The sin that gnaws, the blight of life. Mea culpa, mea maxima culpa I am the thorn within. [Verse 2] Point your fingers—I’ll snap them clean, Your verdict’s my heroin. True guilt don’t whisper… it screams in the vein, A sacrament of needle and gin. One and the same are the wolf and the flock— I’ll wear your scorn as a crown of rot. Your law’s a noose… your truth’s a scar. The thorn drinks deep… and I crave the bar. [Bridge] [Bluesy Guitar Solo] The thorn grows inward— Pierces where the light won’t reach. You beg for the rot… you howl for the stain. Redemption’s just another leash. [Verse 3] I do your time… I take your fall… Your sins taste sweeter than my own. Branded guilty… branded whole— The thorn’s my compass… the wound’s my soul. [Instrumental Interlude] [sludge riff] [Feedback shrieks] [Verse 4] Point your fingers—they feed my feast, Your hate’s the wine… I’ll drink you dry. One and the same are the curse and cure… The thorn’s our god… your judgment’s my lure. Your hate completes me! [Final Chorus] I am the wound… I am the knife, The sin that gnaws, the end of life. Mea culpa, mea maxima culpa I am the thorn within… I am the thorn within… I am the thorn within…
