Lightning struck my head
Knocked me down into a sacred land
There the living dead
With the ashes of my own hand
Torn by angels’ claws
Mystics told and sold their dirty cross
Where can we go?
The only hope that's left is in our home
Infants born to die
They shouldn't doubt with a wave of their hands
Trust your bloody eyes
Don't leave them there 'cause you're next in line
If they follow you
Just tell 'em what was dead cannot be so
Leave your soul in bliss
If all else fails, just leave with a kiss

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