2001
Those words.
Those four words.
Over and over, they leave my lips.
Almost like a prayer.
Almost like a prayer...
Do it for him.
Do it for him.
Do it for him.
Do it for him.
Lured into a hostile place
A psychotic king intends to do his worst to us.
All around me are my strongest fears
While my brother lays trapped, sealed,
At the king's mercy.
Yet even as my heart pounds,
Those words
Those four words
Spill from my lips.
Almost like a prayer.
Almost like a prayer...
Do it for him.
Do it for him.
Do it for him.
Do it for him.
It's cold here.
Cold and dark.
Alien, hostile.
The spirits lurking within
Snarl malevolently at me.
My only lifelines—
A vacuum cleaner on my back
And an elderly professor safe and sound in his lab.
Yet with shaky steps I tread these halls,
Those words
Those four words
Again and again leaving my lips.
Almost like a prayer.
Almost like a prayer...
Do it for him.
Do it for him.
Do it for him.
Do it for him.
Peeking into an altar,
I see him.
I've never seen him like this,
Sealed away
In a macabre mockery of an exquisite art piece.
Screaming.
Fists pounding the walls of his artistic prison.
Alone.
Imprisoned.
Helpless.
Hurt.
There are bruises all over his face,
Gashes crusted over with dried and drying blood,
And his eyes, oh, his eyes—
YOU ARE READING
Almost Like a Prayer
PoetryHe'd run away, never look back, if he didn't say the words. Those words are the only safeguard against the fear.
