Revolving Doors of The Din

Riddles in the dark
trucking through my brain.
Where do folks go
when they go insane?

Angels on the outside
demons checking in.
A dying virgin on the rooftop
naked in the night
kneeling hard against the november wind.

Gold crosses in the throat
shrieking to the stars.
Can you save a fallen sun
to burn away the sin?
But there's no antidote
for the anti-man.
Only ghosts of mars.

Could you do it all over again?

Could you lose it all in the dark
just to find the light again?

Could you lie in peace
just to find a true fight again?

All over again.
And again and again and again.
But nobody seems to see within.
Within
the revolving doors of the din.

Jesus at the bedside.
Angels got the soul.
What do folks do
when there's no control?

God is on the radio.
The man is in a cell.
Mourning in the evening.
The heavenly lady looking down.
While the saints are all high
sayin, y'all can go to hell.

The first demon's still here.
Folded hands are old and rotten.
Winking at the moon.
To tell the tale that's long forgotten.

But there's no cure to remember
what disease left the right side
so sacredly haunted.

Would you do it all over again?

Would lose it all in the dark
just to find the light again?

Would you lie in peace
just to find a true fight again?

And again and again and again.

But nobody seems to see within.
Within

the revolving doors of the din.