The Ballad of the Pale Christ

On bended knees we pray for war, a blade draws blood but often tarnishes

Through blazing eyes I see new sunsets, sky now breaking different shades of red

We pray for blades, ablazing locusts call for wars to wet the earth

To cover the world in black and bracken, flaming stubble with church bell battles

And then I lie in the arms of a smiling girl who prays to Christ and the pale queens mighty in sorrow

Mighty in sorrow

When did I stand before I touched the shadows of this life that touch the dark and dream of ice

An endless winter in this dogday-age, I kiss the cross but dream of wars

A bagatelle for a massacre or wars of fire were build to last

Old men die and stone will turn to stone

And then I kiss the mouth of a smiling girl who calls on Christ and the pale queens mighty in sorrow

Mighty in sorrow

Immaculate heart of immaculate love a tawdry scarecrow for a tarnished crown

His five wounds bleed but only on his throne, his toothless smile cuts wide across his face

And then I kiss the mouth of a smiling girl who calls on Christ and the pale queens mighty in sorrow

Mighty in sorrow

And what shall I receive a little drum to beat when I march with scorched earth's steps

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