nUnique situation as she stares down the wallnMonique's fascination might have been that last phone callnNo one could be certain, nothin's very clearnSo tell menWhere do we go from herennBrothel filled by men of the clothnThe man of the cloth was suddenly offednThe child who's dreams were the terrorists screamsnRemarked to his mom as he clean the carbinenLook in the eye of murder that nightnThe calm politician knows more than InnSo where do we go from herenWhere do we go from herenOne thing is clearnNothin's sacred anymorennAlone in the cell are the tears of a boynWho could be a man if he knew what one wasnAn' you ask yourself for a chance to make goodnAn' ask directions to where good used to benSo tell mennWhere do we go from herenWhere do we go from herenOne thing is clearnNothin's sacred anymorenOne thing is clearnNothin's sacred anymore