This is gospel

Brigands, thieves,
scarred by childhood and lacerated,
telling tales of times long gone and
remembering the wishes they used to make --
they crumble, slump,
sing songs of restlessness and fatigue,
return to their heathen ideals and
remember how they used to be:
their harsh rumors and lies,
conspiracies and fallacies;
they don't know us like they think they do.

Beautiful words, beautiful wounds,
afraid I'll shatter like porcelain --
honestly you never had me,
afraid I would shatter like stained glass.

Blood pressure,
jade,
apocalypse,
graveyard,
the last stand --

if you love me, let me go.