Glass in St. Marys Lot by Gilded Lily Lyrics

Your vices were childlike
In this hidden place
Where I first groped at your skin
And the cacophonous mass
Of guilt, lust and control
Heaved onto my shoulders
Broad for my age

The wreath of youth
Tender, green, ecstatic
Haloed a hung head
The Lord of your prayers
Was tangled in the pulp
Of disbelief
God never cut himself on glass
In St
Mary's lot