The ground is cold underfoot, and the air is full of heathen cries. We walk between these walls that are built upon human lives. For every sin that we count there are sinners to be put to the sword, And in return for our service we'll receive a celestial reward. And now paint it, commemorate it. We build these churches, lest we forget this pain.
The remains of our enemies A crimson catastrophe That's spread across a canvas and left out to dry, then hung of a wall for a century of eyes Insensible disconnect between us and those we protect has opened, and threatens never to be closed
For it's hard to amuse a God with such a lust for blood. Try as we might to entertain him it's never enough. Now the choirs that sing our devotion are giving up. Holy Kunst (x8)
These towers and steeples, they leer over us (x2)
These towers and steeples, they leer over us, they keep us in darkness. (x2)
These towers and steeples, they leer over us, they keep us in darkness, remind us of our vulnerabilities. Cower before omnipotence.
If we disregard the book, then we eschew these heinous expectations. But there's a price to be paid, they'll try to kill me if I just depart. So should I take this chance, should I eschew these heinous expectations, or carry on with his work of art?Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
