The house with the red brick walls
\nDripping blood from some saint
\nThe whispers echo in the night
\nThey know what does not belong
\nThey complain I am stained
\nAnd not the pretty kind of arched windows at cathedrals<\/p>\n
Worshipping at the altar of some ancient cathedrals
\nFrescoes adorn the walls
\nThe glass fragile, vivid and stained
\nDelicate prayers from the lips of a saint
\nHere is where I don\u2019t belong
\nCasting myself out into the night<\/p>\n
Join me in the star adorned night
\nWe will mourn our losses outside tall, decadent cathedrals
\nCan this be where souls belong?
\nStuck in the walls
\nListening to tears drop from the cheeks of a saint
\nWe can both see the face is stained<\/p>\n
The carpet is stained
\nI can\u2019t help but to drag it out into the dark night
\nPray for the martyred saint
\nThe blood will flow in the street to the cathedrals
\nNothing but walls
\nAbove and below belong<\/p>\n
You obstruct more than you belong
\nAs a child, you were told you were stained
\nYou can hear your mother sob through the walls
\nIt\u2019s never quiet enough for you at night
\nThe empty, echoing cathedrals
\nWill your prayers find the right saint?<\/p>\n
I am the saint
\nThat doesn\u2019t belong
\nAmongst the vaulted backs of cathedrals
\nMy skirt is stained
\nThese observations die at night
\nTrapped within paper-thin walls<\/p>\n
Forgetting which of us is stained
\nSurge water swells into the night
\nKnocking down the walls<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Alexis Foran The house with the red brick walls Dripping blood from some saint The whispers echo in the night They know what does not belong They complain I am stained And not the pretty kind of arched windows at cathedrals Worshipping at the altar of some ancient cathedrals Frescoes adorn the walls The glass… <\/p>\n