Every time your lips spill their poisonous words

They infect the ones you claimed to have cared for

We are gored by your serrated ways



We shed our faith, we’ve bled oceans for your cause

We shed our faith in your atrocity

Open hands will shape what little time we have



We exude our servitude to a lifetime of deceptive worship



Righteous hands will rise, if only to redeem the city of the gods

And in ourselves we trust



A thousand fists will rain

This mighty downpour will wash away

There is new hope in every open eye

Promise to ourselves that these words will never die



We exude our servant hood to a lifetime of immoral worship

Righteous hands will rise, if only to redeem the souls of the meek



Burn your spores so your plague will not manifest in the hearts of the innocent

The ash will scatter of what has not remained

The ashes have buried you