[Verse 1] Begging first, a futile start, Missteps in the dance of art. Asking questions, the question's heart, Time halts, in its relentless march. [Chorus] What's it like in his likeness? We die, Our paradox, lost, stillborn, a lie. Sin wound in time, it wakes, it cries, Pregnant breath, in the cursed skies. [Verse 2] Dirty words, on the cursed earth, Fertile sentences, in the birth of mirth. Condemned by a snake, to be fruitful, Naked, begirdled, in the fig's truth. [Chorus] What's it like in his likeness? We die, Our paradox, lost, stillborn, a lie. Sin wound in time, it wakes, it cries, Pregnant breath, in the cursed skies. [Bridge] She’s unbecoming, unpardoned, Punctuating tranquility, unbroken. Ouroboral, short, mortal, shame, A blood-red paralipsis, in the blame. [Chorus] What's it like in his likeness? We die, Our paradox, lost, stillborn, a lie. Sin wound in time, it wakes, it cries, Pregnant breath, in the cursed skies. [Outro] Evil knows better, blame falling on you, Not divine inability, in the end, it's true. [End]