Saint Sebastian

Bound to tree by rope and faith Painted eyes of final gaze Forest green grove canopies Screaming sour melodies Irene is sweet and all But she cleans wounds with salt"Where you go, I follow""No!" I've never felt so cross being an orthodox Arrows shot straight through the bone Martyrs are never lost Rhaeto-Romanic talks makes me pray for more arrows Thy arrows are fixed in me Plague victims for which I bleed Revere me for centuries Swallow death in victory