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where come the prophets from the past you say |
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who saved the people kept oppressors at bay |
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stricking the wicked made them slither and hide |
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from the mountainside |
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he gathered the people both young and old |
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preaching the truth about the lies they told |
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curing the sick with only a touch of his hand |
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all across the land |
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some people say |
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you got to throw the past away |
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still I pray |
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these lessons learned will not decay |
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but soon the storm clouds began to reign |
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destiny pointing it's finger with distain |
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the shadows perched in trees like birds of prey |
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to choke the light of day |
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some people say |
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you got to throw the past away |
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still I pray |
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these lessons learned will not decay |
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They build their towers of lust and greed |
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raping our minds to plant their seed |
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and from the ashes can't you see |
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the tattered wings of our reality |
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the wolves dressed up to lead the meek like sheep |
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babbling promises they know they can't keep |
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weaving their web of lies and utter deceit |
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the huddled masses by their feet |
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so where come the prophets from the past you say |
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who saved the people kept oppressors at bay |
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and don't you forget that man was crucified |
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on the mountainside |
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on the mountainside |
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on the mountainside |
