|
Sometimes I feel just like Jesus Christ |
|
Nailed to the cross, betrayed and crucified |
|
A crown of thorns cutting into my skin |
|
A palace and a throne and a kingdom of my own |
|
Knights in armour and courtesans, maids in waiting with blood on their hands |
|
The king ??? can't get blood from a stone |
|
I'm falling, into the arms of Nemesis |
|
I'm falling, into the grip of disease |
|
Cold comfort is success and I can feel my blood freeze |
|
Reason with the dust and blown away by the breeze |
|
How cruel the stars, that shine so hard |
|
I'm falling, into the arms of Nemesis |
|
I'm falling, into the grip of |
|
Disease |
|
?? and all I ever need is the truth |
|
But the truth of it all is that there's no truth at all |
|
Like the truth of the cry from the new born child |
|
So why? Just tell me why, does Jesus cry? |
|
I'm falling, into the arms of Nemesis |
|
I'm falling, into the grip of disease |
|
I'm falling, into the arms of Nemesis |
|
I'm falling, into the grip of disease |
|
Disease, disease, disease |
