The Tide Pulls from the Moon

So like your 
Father in the face and blood 
Terrified and cold 
And whispers 
The coming of a cleansing flood 
For you 

You hide your 
Filthy hands from all of us 
Still unseen and tied 
What water
These killing hands could ever clean 
Still you run 

I want to be changed from 
The shadow and the tomb 
Like water rushing over us 
The tide pulls from the moon 

Your mother 
The passing of a silver ring 
Oversized and cold 
This specter 
Will walk the halls of every seed 
From you 

I want to be changed from 
The shadow and the tomb 
Like water rushing over us 
The tide pulls from the moon
The tide pulls from the moon
The tide pulls from the moon.