A curious lot
ByzantineStill I heap heavy woe on the clouds
Accepted the plea to end the misery
As I shield myself from the crowds
I chisel away at the walls of my cell
That chisels so slowly at me
We are the meek who obtained the world
And vengeance we bring unto thee
I'm not afraid to die
So please unholster that hate at your side
I'm not afraid to… die
Comb the lies for admission of guilt
Now your tales hold your feet to the fire
Murderer, we are not alone
And the torches they keep growing brighter
We are the meek and vengeance we bring unto thee
We are not alone and vengeance we bring unto thee
The mark of cain I forever bear
That was penned from the blood of three lambs
Innocence forever scrutinized
Yet life never died from these hands
From these visions I will never heal
A ghost that will haunt till the end
The scent of your wickedness fills the air
Yet from home I'm forever damned
I'm not afraid to die
So please unholster that hate at your side
I'm not afraid to die
When you smother the truth all you foster are lies