| This masquerade is a massacre. |
| Another stained-glass serenade. |
| These halos hang
|
| Over our heads like vultures circle their prey. |
| Your hands are washed white but
|
| Your eyes are the darkest I’ve seen. |
| Your hands are washed white. |
| Foul deeds
|
| Will rise like ghosts of gods through the steeples. |
| Foul deeds will rise like
|
| Smoke and soot from the stacks. |
| Foul deeds will rise. |
| Heracy fills our lungs as
|
| We breath it. |
| Foul deeds will rise like the incense that burns. |
| You’re running
|
| This race, but you’ve been running the wrong way. |
| Dark shepherds have led their
|
| Sheep astray. |
| They demonize, rationalize, for what? |
| For who? |
| Foul deeds will
|
| Rise like ghosts of gods through the steeples. |
| Foul deeds will rise like smoke
|
| And soot from the stacks. |
| Foul deeds will rise. |
| Heracy fills our lungs as we
|
| Breath it. |
| Foul deeds will rise like the incense that burns. |
| Call the choir to
|
| Light the pyre. |
| Call the choir to light the fires. |
| Your hands are washed white
|
| But your eyes are the darkest I’ve seen. |
| Your hands are washed white but this
|
| Place smells of deceit. |
| This burning fire will never be enough to quench your
|
| Blood-lust |