Ihsak

Lashed to tree and star

A life lived between thieves

Stygian gate

Pupil of a dilated mind

Stay your hand

From that lie as Father's voice

Is not, and never was

In Circles of Ishkara

Only moon to bleed

Only sun

Not knives

Never knives

Never the young

Light in shape of flesh

Harm me, tear me

In their stead

If you must

But stay your hand

A thousands cuts

Each cut a kiss

Bleeding me darkly

Not one mark

Upon my children

Not one