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There is blood on our hands tonight. |
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So this is where the world lies behind the son of man, now go, |
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sell your soul, |
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for this world will offer nothing. |
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Well I have invented angels of my own. |
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They are false and untrue. |
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Crawling, cowering they still my shroud. |
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When I swear from the blazing son above, |
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uncovered, so shall I fall. |
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This is where my bones will rest, |
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in the desert of forsakeness. |
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Watch your back cause the sky is turning black. |
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Don't listen, for I will make you a liar. |
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Closed off by crossed arms, |
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there is no worship here. |
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So put your foot down, |
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so quick to eject and reject. |
