The Holy Drinker and his curse
In constant serfage to unquenchable thirst
And from his stupor the night gives birth
The devil rises from right out of the earth
With shaking hands and blackened heart
The glass he pours, this time it's also the last
In rapt communion with himself
The Holy Drinker is going straight in to hell
The coffin was made from a tree
Please hammer a nail in for me
The bottle slipped right through
Plague pits
Now underground
Take me down
Down
Put me in chains
Writer(s): Steven John Wilson
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