Oh, intimate father, speak not to me in tongues But in movements of rebellion from which I've come to know Lie beside me with purpose and I make Peace with being orphaned by this world For it is not of me, and I not of it We will tower above the corpulent stars Where God must lie in bloated rot amongst the fouling whales Oh, intimate father, press my cheek Breathe through me for my lungs cannot carry your words Let me prove to you the violence that we know to be truth Take me farther to a world that's Worthy and providing of the fruits I hunger Show me that I am no longer alone