I won't be around this burning bush, nIll step right through the flames..nOh god, forgive me for all that I can't explain.nSemantics in brimstone, and those fires from the lord,nwill my unrepented sins pass to my child when they're born.nnYou can call me Ishmael, at least my parents did...nThis veil represents the white whale of their sins,nand I am ill conceived, yet carved upon a bone..ndissected ribs and holy skin, taken from a man that you have known.nWhat have I become to you?nWhat have I become to myself?nnI was a victim in a series of accidents, as we all are.nI never planned or hoped that this could ever go so far..well.nyou're a child of ill-resputed lust, dripping from a carnal mouth,nthese words have build a manger, but they'll never make a house.nnComprised of smoke, empty alters of bone and rows of pews full of saints,nI know not any one of their names, but alas they could say the same. nAnd they've gathered to see the unveiling of the sermon on the mount.nOh my God! what have I don't, i've let you all down...nnWhat have I become to you..nwhat have I become to myself.