The Andromeda Strain

get these old fingers
rotting their cold colors off into my room
get them out of my eyes
this observation leaves a colloidial guilt in my mouth
weighed heavy with the silver payment i recieved on my tounge
for delivering my saviour to his golgotha

oh dont bother to hang me now
me and my judas hands are payin visit
to pretty pontius' house
and my eyes, they are filling with water
and we're all going to wash with this waste

plastic shutters
plastic bus is
plastic plastics
and plastic fusses
give me the lakes of glass
so i can dance with the crass
oh andromeda
give me crystal blood
and ill turn in anyone you call heretic