(Still Hanging Around With) The Crucifixion Blues Songtext

The hollow bones of what we say are taking flight like words of prey.
Swing low, sweet champion.
Sing your gospel south.
Put your head in the lion’s mouth.
Soldier, name your price with strings attached and sacrifice.
I will wait like a minotaur for you to come find me.
This is part of our mythology.
Maybe I’m no stainglass saint, but a holy ghost you ain’t, and I see through you like an eyesore.
Now you’ve got thorns in your hair and a cross you love to bear, but I’ve got no sins you can die for.
Better the devil that you know about, than the devil that you don’t.