With your hands to the skies, form the sign that all will be absolved Through stigmata sins, and perfect grins that beckon to us all
For only those of the flock of lambs Can hope to grace the promised land While the heathens will be set to burn Forever in your hell
As utopian dreams poise, preparing to malign Gold hearts that may have not be cast from the blood of christ Cast off the shackles and flagellate the keeper of gates To become one of the few who are not content to wait For this world to rot away
Where thoughts of self void the thoughts of all Where the call of the heavens deafens ears to the sound of now Where a just man is piously defined This is where the selfish over selfless shall resideTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
