Pilar Moll

November 24, 2004 - Buenos Aires
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teach me God, teach him love

you grew up with stories
wine that tasted like iron
and bread from the bone
your romanization of cannibalism should be no shock
you could not only excuse it but worship it

love and hurt are both four letters
and they taught you to count not read
holy and pain look close enough blurred
so punch me with your lips
and hold me with your fists
blood pumps through the heart but pools warm in bruises
you hurt me because that’s how they said He loves

it confused me, the faith, the hymns, the god
all i believed in as a kid was the pain, the pop, the no power above
but i think i get it now
i am no believer, never been, but i kneel when you ask me to
not even god gets that kind of loyalty anymore
i let you hurt me because that’s how sheep love

i mistake resurrection for staying dead a little longer
sacrifice and slaughter feel just as bloody
trust and surrender have the same control
devotion and worship bruise your knees the same way
obsession and hunger look the same in the dark
need and want feel like desire, if you look past the lack of spark
god and the men pretending to be him are violent

and maybe I understand communion now
forgiveness tastes sweeter coming from your lips
I’d risk everything just to bask longer in it
sin has never been so tempting
purity is just a concept, opiates dissolve in your holy water
and baby I’m willingly drowning in it
let it baptize me clean
so make me feel unworthy, make me think you cruel
make me test my faith it’s okay
I’ll i bite the apple, say the words, ask to be crucified
watch you lick the blood from my palms and call it divine retribution
take the punishment as proof you’re real, take the pardon as proof you’re kind

i became religious you became a god
a pedestal and an altar aren’t too far beyond
we became that which we couldn’t understand before,
we were not meant to be this
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