your god is a homeless assassin
who roams the world to save
he's digging for buried treasures
he's leaving nothing but fields of graves
the tears will fly like birds of vengeance
the sky will bury us all
the church bells will sound like sirens shrieking
the hole will be dug for the fall
through the smoke its now getting clearer
who led us into the burning theater
in through the rain of bodies and ashes
and into the courtrooms of pitched blackness
into the secret firing lines
into the barbed wire dug in around our minds
the tears will fly like birds of vengeance
the sky will bury us all
the church bells will sound like sirens shrieking
the hole will be dug for the fall
your god is dying much younger than Rome
he's killed so many he can't go home
your god's heart is a tumor now rotten
born of a blood that's never forgotten
and this is my last letter to you
i'm walking the belt way and there's
something i've got to do
A strong comment here is specific: the phrase you keep hearing, the mood you come back for, or the reason this song stays in rotation.
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