Malediction - Diamanda Galas

The arms that you cut off that Sunday night

Of the young man who ran screaming through

The street

Streaming blood in trails of terror

Are the arms that point me to my door

Which forsaken by the blood of Jesus

Invites the Devil, who now waits for me outside

The arms that you cut off that Sunday night

Are the arms that point me to the red eyes

Of the pentecostal killers and the black eyes

Of the roman catholic killers and the blue eyes

Of the pinhead skinhead killers

And the dirty angel does his target practice night

And day

Making ready now to steal my soul away

The arms that you cut off that Sunday night

Are the arms that wait between my T.V. and my gun

While the winks and smiles of singing debutantes

And eunuchs whisper

«We don’t want you, Unclean, lying there in vomit

Filth, and perspiration

Coming back with Elvis or with Jesus from the dead.»

The arms that you cut off the body

Of the screaming young man

Dance before my eyes the endless murder of my soul

Which, taunted every hour by open windows

Has kept itself alive with prayer

But not for miracles

And not for heaven

Just for silence

And for mercy

Until the end