if it's better to cut off our hands and gouge out our eyes,
then we all should be wearin' our eyepatches and hooks for hands like the scoundrels we are
the jealous heart of the Righteous One is just
His harlot bride has slept with pride and guilt has died
He calls her name, she hides in broad daylight
the Son will shine and fill the sky with merciful color
but will the Bride let the Groom forgive?
or return to its bile like the dogs...