Из альбома: Put On Your Rosy Red Glasses
the soiled ground for the sacrifice,
dispelled, crippling, faulty, holyland
i am your martyr, your stigmata
the tears turn to blood, beneath my eyes
my body listens as you whisper
my fingers bend as i'm nailed to your cross
the splinters etch hearts in my back
i denounce this crucifixion, i deman another sacrifice
a cast shadow over this narrow hill,
pulling my fingers from these nails
there will be no use for a second coming