Come follow

Strike this body,
and stow it low.
You say, "Come follow."
I will not go!

You live in fear
of moth and rust.
I thirst the way
that can't be touched.

Oh God, please Heaven,
grant us reprieve.
A corpse in the mirror,
who is not me!

It thirsts for things
with shape and form,
but I was there
when it was born.

In pain. In screams.
In blood. In muck.
Began the clock
of moth and rust.
Before the good
becomes corrupt:
Let's walk the way
that can't be touched!

Oh strike this body,
and stow it low.
You say, "Come follow."
I will not go!

Beyond the reach
of moth and rust.
Let's walk the way
that can't be touched.