The dawn of a Sunday morning is the war-cry of my soul.
For seven days I have rested,
For seven days I have laid down my sword
But no more.
I must leave this place and go to battle
To fight of those who would see me slain
I offered them white flags and words of comprehension
But no more
I have defended my lovers bed as a stronghold
Against the righteous men with flaming arrows
Condemnation on their lips and fire in their hearts
But no more
I have cleaved aside the heretics and beloved sinners
I have begged pardon through their valleys,
I wished to walk in peace and solitude
But no more
I am torn by crowns of thorns
I am seduced by lips ablaze with flame
I am condemned to burn in holy light
And find myself in naught by darkness.
I have no more to give
I have no more to repent for
I have no more words to form my shield from you
I have only my Love and my God.
And no more.
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