This Sinner Man
slow stinking ooze,
All that’s holy in His ruse,
His boiling cross called love
Could never prove his heat for me.
Lift me up to lick my good lord’s lips
And I’ll show you a mouth dripping from the bone.
Water leaking, amber tones from his rock
Baptized once twice thrice, in his love.
That holy ooze which never could prove