---

Rest easy my old friend.
You've earned your slumber 'til the end.
But soon you will be risen,
And you'll never sleep again. Again

The Vicar of Christ decrees.
The canonized must be seen.
Pulled from your crypt and adorned.
As they oil and wash you clean. Made clean

Seven Orchids on a grave
No one knows just where they've laid
Until they're taken by the wind
And we're all washed clean again

And so they call you patron now
A hand of God to some, somehow
And the prayers they never end
And you'll never sleep again. Sleep again

Seven Orchids on a grave
No one knows just where they've laid
Until they're taken by the wind
And we're all washed clean again
Clean again. Clean again

Seven Orchids on a Grave
For the lost and the saved
All taken by the wind
And we're all washed clean again. Clean again
Wash me clean again.
Clean again. Oh, clean again

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