Blessed Be Forever

(hummmmm) Oh,

woe is me, I made a religion of a man.

If Satan heard my

prayers, why couldn’t

he hear my heart?

Hand of Satan above my head,

if

you can still hear me now,

I do not ask you to bring him back,

only teach me not to seek

him out.

And if loving you became my ruin,

I would not erase the life we knew.

If Satan had shown me the ending from the beginning,

I still would have chosen you.

Even knowing of the farewell,

even knowing where I’d fall,

I would walk that very road again

just to have you

for one day more.

And when I have grown old

and these letters have lost their color,

perhaps I’ll read your name and whisper:

“Oh, Satan…

how I loved him.”

And perhaps, at last,

it will no longer hurt.

Until then, I lay my hands upon my heart

and give thanks

for what remains.

Blessed be the first time.

Blessed be the last.

Blessed be you.

And blessed be, forever,

the sorrowful mystery of love.