They called me the man with the blood of Christ honesty,
But tonight I drink with heathens and our, our finest blasphemies.In wine there's truth but in silence there's surrender,
A screaming for the silence in stunned suspicious terror.
Built a temple in my life and used God to seal the pillars,
After twenty years of fighting young heretics and killers.I watch my temple fall to pieces at the first signs of oncoming weather.
Fell to my knees like Jesus in the cave, knew I would die.
But my lips could only say "I'm not your son, so why have you forsaken me?"There's a hole in my heart but it just makes me unholy.
Crucified that night and I walked away with alter-egos,
Like the prison priest who preached his dead and buried gospel.
With my faith in ruins my duty still breathes strong,
I'm a parrot in a cage saying prayers to belong...
To a textbook of my crying, lying, dying history.
A textbook of my crying, lying, dying history.
A textbook of my crying...
A textbook of my lying...
A textbook of my dying...
A textbook of my history.
