Drag that cross, your borden to bear
Swing that scourge, don't let it rest
A procession of blood, for cleansing of sin
Let the three of redemption lick your skin
So many questions gather
And confusion clouds your mind
Why should you be punished?
Your wealth has always bought you free
But in these times of malady
One and all are all the same
Farmer, blacksmith, kingsman
All shall walk the path of shame
Chant the words of holiness
Hear them echo through the wind
Can they keep your soul in place?
Show devotion to him
What you reap is what you sow
Feel the loss of worthiness
Might just be it's your life that you owe...
Drag that cross, your borden to bear
Swing that scourge, don't let it rest
A procession of blood, for cleansing of sin
Let the three of redemption lick your skin
With heavy steps, be baritone feet
Minutes turn hours to days, then repeat
Fulfill this mission of yours
To red the wrath of god
Weakened... no healing
Hum your lamentation
A soothing rite for all your pain
From being the social top sheet
Then watch it all go down the drain
