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Well, there's a hundred million souls |
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All looking for redemption |
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But most of them are digging holes |
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To bury their intentions |
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We treat it like a sacred shrine |
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And then we lose all faith |
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So everybody walks the line |
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The guilty and misplaced |
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With eyes that are swollen and tearful |
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We all take a bow |
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It passes the time for a moment |
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But what happens now? |
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Down the streets, somehow dead and empty |
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Watch the people pray |
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Stand in line, wishing they had plenty |
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On the thirteenth day |
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What's happening in the world today? |
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There's nothing but confusion |
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You can't believe a word they say |
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I've come to that conclusion |
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But something tells me it's all wrong |
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It's not the way to go |
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I think we knew it all along |
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But didn't want to show |
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We capture the words that were spoken |
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They hang in your mind |
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But surely they all will be broken |
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And slowly unwind |
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Down the streets, somehow dead and empty |
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Watch the people pray |
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Stand in line, wishing they had plenty |
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On the thirteenth day |
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Pure in heart, there's no time to worry |
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Some get pushed away |
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They won't touch, 'cause their hands are bloody |
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On the thirteenth day |
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Down the streets, somehow dead and empty |
|
Watch the people pray |
|
Stand in line, wishing they had plenty |
|
On the thirteenth day |
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Pure in heart, there's no time to worry |
|
Some get pushed away |
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They won't touch, 'cause their hands are bloody |
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On the thirteenth day |
