Anis Mojgani - These Branches Are Full and These Orchards Heavy lyrics

Gentlemen, have you forgotten your god? He weeps out loud Waiting for our dreams to grow like ears While you are making ghosts out of people Making ghosts from your Torah Your Qu'ran Your Bible We have shaved our books down Swallowed them so that the word of God might flow through us But the pages just sit in our bellies Speaking to us in dull murmurs as we try to sleep We wake Wonder what to do "Make me understand" We wish to become one with him We hear these voices inside and think we know what they say "This This is the word of God I hear this I heard this correctly" So we rise and try to translate this word With the work With the heart We search through thighs The blanket, the legs, the needle twist The "f**s" and "f** you" curse of the moon To find our Lord and listen more proper like But our ears are too small for our hearts to understand The humming of these sentences inside "We are trying to decipher the bang, buck, braile of Your silent throat, Lord" But the voices they grow and grow just as fuzzy So we stand and go to the kitchens And pick up knives to cut these voices out from inside We stab ourselves "I must hear You" We stab, cutting the flap of our skin The words twisting on the floor of our homes Mixing their sounds with our blood They drown, but it does not stop "I must hear you" We hear these same songs in the stomachs of others So we grab more knives to cut those out but there are more and more stomachs We need bigger knives We need soldiers, tanks, and missiles But we still cannot make out the words We need dead mothers, children raped from searching The hospitals are full and overflowing From us trying to cut our God from our gut With the blade, the pipe, the fingernail twist of the drug Pushed and poked through the arm to the belly to throw Him up And in the bang of the scream We find our saviour The shell in the chamber is a quiet plea to a distant God Asking for us to be remembered by Him Through the tire tread Through the smoke from the tank The crunch from the skull of the babies we bury beneath us We empty them out to see a scrap of our Lord Still lingered somewhere inside there We clutch throats, pistols, and palms in the same two-handed clasp of prayer Staring into the mirror we see crypts Fondling the marble of our hearts like they are mausoleums We are ghosts Hungry for something bigger than what are mouths are kissing Let me see You Let me see You, Lord I am balanced int he middle of the question Black as my eye Beaten by Your hymn, I am holding still So go ahead You gentlemen of God Tender sinners Take your rifles Raise to my gut and fire on Here the song more clearly It does not sing what you wish it did It is too big for us to even see a letter of it Cut Him from me I wish to drape His face with my kisses And finally sleep softly