I find the song “Passerine” by The Oh Hellos particularly haunting. Especially the following section:

see, my birds of a kind, they more and more are looking like
centurions than any little messiah
and as I prune my feathers like leaves from a vine
I find that we have fewer and fewer in kind, but

my palms and fingers still reek of gasoline
from throwing fuel to the fire of that Greco-Roman dream
purifying the holy rock to melt the gilded seams
it don’t bring me relief, no it don’t bring me nothing that

you were the song that I’d always sing
you were the light that the fire would bring
but I can’t shake this feeling that I was only
pushing the spear into your side again

Give it a listen.