Cover up your hair, the sight of it bare
is sure to summon the beast
Your place is in the home, I'll keep you for my own
and quell temptation
Put you away if you don't pay respect to the
ways of the priest
The man who holds your life at ransom
for salvation.
And if gender is your role
Your enjoyment of heaven will be based on
the sex of your soul.
Judging by your clothes, we're quick to suppose
that you were asking for it
You come to us in tears, we ridicule and jeer you
behind your back
In your report, you come up short
describing a possible fit
So many faces like his and we tend to lose track.
We've engendered many goals
And yours isn't one of them,
so says the sex of our soul
Elements of skin get twisted within
until it's hard to accept
the meaning of your body then ready or not
it gets enlisted
how far away until the day we're faced with a people inept
distracted by the basest of urges resisted
And who calls the final roll?
Brings our body to agony,
fueled by the sex of his soul?
And who calls the final roll?
Passing judgement eternally,
fueled by the sex of her soul?
And who calls the final roll?
So sincere in his loyalty,
based in the sex of his soul?
And who calls the final roll?
To praise you lik e royalty
based in the sex of her soul?
credits
from Apostasy (י),
released November 14, 2012
(Music & Lyrics M. Shuwall)
Sounds like a great soundtrack for an America as crusty as the tiles on their album cover. Lush instrumentation, pulls you in hypnotically. Magilla Shuwall
My good friend Keith produced and engineered this one. Sounds like you're right there in the room headbanging along. Drives heavy and keeps it interesting. Magilla Shuwall
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