6 Urban heat

Dancing in the fish market or stabbing out your liver,

The sight of the Jester is sure to make you quiver.

His presence is vague and distorted, quite an odd mixture.

Down by the river He skips rocks with the Sinner, to pay homage to his roots.

Slimy, scaly and slippery.

The snake or the fish market floor,

To the Jester, it is just another door.

As for the sinner, his triumph is soon to end.

Crashing to his knees the crowd begs for more.

What was once a rock is now a blade, the Jester now a king, demands sacrafice.

The sinner or the lamb.

To the Jester it is just another door.

Break the apple across Eve's head, and destroy the sacred texts.

The world was born in fire and will end in the same fate,

Cross His heart and hope to die, His soul for you to take.

The valley is barren and the king is dead, gather the children and lead them ahead.

Conquest, cleanse and heal.

The cycle is wicked, no worse than man.

The equilibrium shifts into the hands of the righteous, the sword grows sharper.

With peace comes sacrifice.

To the Jester it is just another door.