There is a machine in that place
That takes your blood and makes it clean
It sets your chemicals to rights
Then puts them back inside of you
And you are well again, a while.
But if you don’t return
In three days you will die.
And that is how we do things here.
We push our poisons back until
They grow too thick and strong and
For the machine to save us from
And we die as our fathers did.
There is another way
But it is hard to want.
To let the Lamb that was slain
Lay down with us in our deathbed
To open our veins, and His own
And loose His red and living roar
Down the empty halls of our hearts.