The arms that you cut off that Sunday night
Of the young man who ran screaming through
The street
Streaming blood in trails of terror
Are the arms that point me to my door
Which forsaken by the blood of Jesus
Invites the Devil, who now waits for me outside
The arms that you cut off that Sunday night
Are the arms that point me to the red eyes
Of the pentecostal k**ers and the black eyes
Of the roman catholic k**ers and the blue eyes
Of the pinhead skinhead k**ers
And the dirty angel does his target practice night
And day
Making ready now to steal my soul away
The arms that you cut off that Sunday night
Are the arms that wait between my T.V. and my gun
While the winks and smiles of singing debutantes
And eunuchs whisper
"We don't want you, Unclean, lying there in vomit
Filth, and perspiration
Coming back with Elvis or with Jesus from the dead."
The arms that you cut off the body
Of the screaming young man
Dance before my eyes the endless murder of my soul
Which, taunted every hour by open windows
Has kept itself alive with prayer
But not for miracles
And not for heaven
Just for silence
And for mercy
Until the end