[INTRO] [Verse 1—4/4 slow] I sat /at the table /of nameless ghosts — The bread /was smiling /with teeth /of chalk. The saint /was dozing /with knotted hands— And the cloth /held whispers /of salted talk. I chew /the garb /of ancient liturgy— Prayers /stick heavy /against my tongue. Each psalm /is peeling /like old theology— Each sermon /rots /like a bitten lung. [Apocrypha I—written on the rim] “Thus spoke the faceless angel: salt cures the memory, and memory bends the altar to the flesh.” (whisper it low) [Pre-Chorus—2 hits] UNBELIEVABLE!!! IRREVERSIBLE!!! Devotion gnaws its own bone. (—) [Chorus] Did I salt the Holy Supper? — Or taste the faith already stale? I chew the hymns and spit the psalms — The miracle turns into moral hail. (breathe) When the saint is flesh upon the plate, the palate learns what gods entail. [Post-Chorus] I know… The wine has fangs — And drains the doubts upon the table. [Verse 2] Candles blush; porcelain demons grin— Serving slices of bitten history. The priest folds up his paper grin— And creed becomes tomorrow’s misery. Tongues proclaim tiny apocrypha— “Who tastes shall see the idol’s face.” And faithful chew each other’s shadows— Swallowing fragments of borrowed grace. [Apocrypha II—from The Cracked Chalice] “When the lips accept the salt, the temple kneels. Desire has no mercy for command.” (soft laugh after) [Pre-Chorus 2] UNACCEPTABLE!!! IMMORAL!!! Anxiety invites the feast. [Chorus 2] Did I tear the veil of ritual? — Or taste what time refused to name? If the holy tastes like iron rust, I’ll choose the bite that burns like flame. [Bridge] (Clap-cut phrasing; irregular meter fits punk/spoken) Devour— Symbols — Swallow— Promises — The priest— Shuts his eyes — And sings— A sermon — That tastes like diet—doctrine. (Hold a two-second silence. Tension.) [Canibalistic Metaphor Bridge] I tear off pieces of doctrine— and chew the marrow of belief. The altar is exposed, soft center— Communion, a crumb of brief relief. (voice climbing) Symbol turns to muscle; muscle asks for meaning. Each bite translates: —the sacred into shreds —the dogma into broth —the creed into chewing. [Manifesto—degenerate theology (spoken/shouted)] Listen: No more canned prayers. We hunger for raw promises— that prove the divine can bruise, wrinkle, and starve. Let priests give up their mantle; let skin devour mantle. Let canon become bread, and scripture turn to vapor. Liturgies should be tasted, not obeyed for appetite is the truest prayer. Heresy is not denial it is confession by tongue. If Olympus feared hunger, then feel the emptiness of its banquet hall. We proclaim: the sacred is tired. We proclaim: the sacred must be eaten to be reborn. [Shout “REBORN!” 3x with dissonant backing.] [Final Chorus] Did I salt the Holy Supper? Or feed the hunger of the lost? The saint is flesh, the saint is famine And we divide desire at any cost. [Outro] “At mankind’s last supper, the chalice whispered: consume me — and taste what faith has left behind.”