A hymn for the First Church of Sex and Poetry.

Lightskirt
© Allison Lonsdale 2002
Live at Lestat's, Disc Two, Track 2

They come to trouble my decline, however I protest
I cannot keep the beast in line, the rude tide aching in the breast
But I will make it to the light, rising blind through brine
I will climb up to that height where heat and rhythm weave the line
I will lay my way to truth, stealing it grain by grain
Stone by stone
St. Teresa knew the way, but I can't unlock the gates alone

        I've been called mad to find salvation in what some know is sin
        They call me lightskirt, but they're right --
        That's where the lightbringer's been
        The hand that writes us hides behind a little sweat and friction
        The light's the light, and everything else is a convenient fiction

It's best they don't know why I care, the ones I ride so far
I lie when I tell them why I'm there, it is not who or what they are
But I will make it to the source, falling till I learn to fly
I will reach up to that force that through the green fuse drives the flower
I will steal my share of fire from principalities and powers
Dominions and thrones
Jalaluddin knew the way, but I can't get through the gates alone

        I've been called mad to find salvation in what some know is sin
        They call me lightskirt, but they're right --
        That's where the lightbringer's been
        The hand that writes us hides behind a little sweat and friction
        The light's the light, and everything else is a convenient fiction

        I've been called mad to find salvation in what some know is sin
        They call me lightskirt, but they're right --
        That's where the lightbringer's been
        The hand that writes us hides behind a little sweat and friction
        The light's the light, and everything else is a convenient fiction
        The light's the light
        The light's the light