Misguided pride
In the hands of the righteous
Guides the figures to the dark room
And they glide
As they guide themselves deeper into the solstice
Deeper into the water
That creeps to their neck bones
As they strip off their clothes for the invited
I feel like jumping in
I feel like feeding the hand
I feel like
Fucking myself
Invitations for the willing
To be deep in the water
That drips from the lips and creeps from the ears of the invitied
Invitation for the living
I feel like jumping in
I feel like feeding the hand
I feel like
Fucking myself
From their skin
To join the small circles
in the waters of resistance
They'll be lost in defenses that tickle the senses
From the lips, to the teeth, to the hips
To the invited
They are feeling the resistance
They are touching
They are feeling
They are touch and feeling and listening to the words
And they are living the words
Because it's the lips of the invited
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