In Dotted Code

Can't keep refusing it's on the hands of you Is this the haunting image of hell I view? So, to care or plead for my discreet silence Weak hands are calling to you for guidance Praying to get help for feelings that permeate Like watching, hurting, rolled down a sewer grate Gentle hands tapping a telegraph in dotted code Seek to find salvation before all these feelings erode Scared to run, diseases like this don't seem to phase you Are the answers to it all, I read, found in a hard wooden pew I wish I had your faults, there aren't many, but I have found a few Wringing hands, no answers, come fly around my hell, all a skew No blasphemy intended, no one nailed to the board Once written, answers in time, by the pearl gate lord