Translation


The closest thing to a title track on the album concerns itself with a livid God, who has seen the multitude of religious wars and causes given over to his many names and has sent his right hand, The Thorn, an avenging angel of death, to mete out a collective punishment, in a way to remind all of his total dominion. If the concept of an all-encompassing God is to be believed, then why should it not be also believed that his Will could turn grim and 'old testament' on the self-professed prophets who war in his name? 'I Am The Thorn' is a song about global retribution and the dire consequences that waging wars in the name of religion and territory engenders.


I Am The Thorn

The needle in the eye of the hurricane
The poison in the font
The nail in the coffin of the profane
I am the lot

Maniacal the fire
That weaves inside my soul
When dripping tongues of hate, envenomed, roll
Like carpet bombs in vast bazaars
My blood runs with the beasts
Though no crescent, cross
Or wandering star
Shalt witness my defeat

Born of a jackal in the Vatican
To a loathsome flock
I have crept behind the drapes
And a wizard there is not
Just a white flag blackened by
Singing weapons that have led
A faith that soon dominions over
Desert kingdoms of the dead

I smell the fleur du malcontent
The hellish stench
Of Judas in the dozens

Bouquets for greed and twisted law
Handmaidens of a holy war
Bring on a thousand roses more
I am the thorn
Tangled are the thickets
That spare the virgin heart
From the waking grasp of rapists in the dark

Mountaineers that strive so far
For a Heaven grown from reach
That love herself is fabled
To be missing from their peaks
Save in one sole tower
Where the presence of a rod
Stays the sleeping beauty
From the prying fingers of the mob

I smell the fleur du malcontent
The hellish stench
Of Judas in the dozens

Bouquets for greed and twisted law
Handmaidens of a holy war
Bring on a thousand roses more
I am the thorn

I am the thorn

I am the Spear of Longinus
The sword of Damocles
Kali up in arms, a bleeding sinus
The hammer of the gods in the prophet's teeth

Saint Disgustus, President Evil
Great white hopes of a shark-eyed people
Lights of the world now flicker and die

Impaled in the race, in the paling face
Where forked tongues pricked the skies
Choking on these words as I slither to their ear
As lightning strikes their blinded minds

I am not the hand of god...
I am the thorn

Territorial thieves
Ever stealing thunder for religious causes
I will bring you all down to your knees...

And fuck you over