The shimmer of the pseudo-holy is tarnished when the bird is mocking
The glory of the men in holding is for the pseudo to be stalking

Cross me once and I'll forgive you
Cross me twice and it gets hard
Cross me three times and just remember I'm no Christ
Am I the animal, am I the enemy

They find the maps between the pages of the Man made of sorrows
And when their love fears aground, they pawn the ship and they borrow