She is a saint Her womb is a place of rejection She washes her perfect skin quietly And hates me for being real Kill the lights and listen for noises to give you away Sanctuary [x3] I need a place where I can feel... [John James Hewitt (1931-1969) The Orchard:] ''It feels like we're all locked up in little cages'' ''The celling is closing in, and the walls... The walls are closing in - Can't you feel that?'' I will turn my eyes away I will not turn into stone No more accusations and lies She's spreading her self Flesh giving away to flesh I watch her bones I'm being eaten alive Remove the eyes Remove the eyes Remove the intentions and kill the light Her love is a blinding line of fire to where I stand Her love is as cold as her desire I'll never be free