Every time your lips spill their poisonous wordsnThey infect the ones you claimed to have cared fornWe are gored by your serrated waysnnWe shed our faith, we’ve bled oceans for your causenWe shed our faith in your atrocitynWe’ve come to claim a thousand lives to livenOpen hands will shape what little time we havennWe exude our servitude to a lifetime of deceptive worshipnnRighteous hands will rise, if only to redeem the city of the godsnAnd in ourselves we trustnnA thousand fists will rainnThis mighty downpour will wash awaynThere is new hope in every open eyenPromise to ourselves that these words will never diennWe exude our servant hood to a lifetime of immoral worshipnRighteous hands will rise, if only to redeem the souls of the meeknnBurn your spores so your plague will not manifest in the hearts of the innocentnAnd when the blackest day becomes forever greynThe ash will scatter of what has not remainednThe ashes have buried you