Mass 歌词

The preacher said a prayer. Save ev'ry single hair on his head. He's dead. The minister of hate had just arrived to be spared. Who cared? The weaver in the web that he made! The pilgrim wandered in, Commiting ev'ry sin that he could So good... The cardinal of grief was set in his belief he'd saved From the grave The weaver in the web that he made! The high priest took a blade To bless the ones that prayed, And all obeyed. The messenger of fear is slowly growing, nearer to the time, A sign. The weaver in the web that he made! A bishops rings a bell, A cloak of darkness fell across the ground Without a sound! The silent choir sing and in their silence, Bring jaded sound, harmonic ground. The weaver in the web that he made