The sickness of the world,
It makes me weary, my word
Can't stop the madness
Of these scattered humans.
I suffer, the ache grows
Jnside my chest, no wows
To God, He stares
From above, wondering why
His own creation is tainted by
Sin and treachery.
The wrath of God, the blood
On the holy cross.
Do they remember?
They forgot His name.
Self made men, Demi-Gods
Have declared war,
The tyrant has spoken,
The country has to burn,
The holy spirits mourns
Blood, blood of young men,
Sons of Mary, sons of mothers
Now lay in a forgotten burial,
The cross under the rubble,
Oh God, they forgot your name.
But the holy womb
The danger, a bomb,
The dome of a doomed
Church, no doors closed,
No gun shot can save the woman
Whose death is on the door,
Waiting like a woolf
Under the pale moon.
