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A frenzied burning in our tainted hearts,
the deathless light that glows, dim and still
smothered with but a blink of our unseeing eyes
As we stare through the blood swept windows into the starless sky
We see not, but hear your call
Faint, but ever clearer than the chimes of his bells

We are the lambs lost in the mountains
Sometimes comes the mother
sometimes the wolf
Her voice draws near
Through the purple mist in the West
In our wigs of dried blood we pray
As the dying sun flushes its last pale streaks of light

With deaf ears, I hear you
With sightless eyes, I see you
With wounded flesh I feel you

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Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.