Whispering words caress careless ears
Ideas imagined in infinite avarice
Hand in hand with misguided souls he walks
leading the blind in a march to bliss
Seven years walking the Valley
Michael weeps as he pulls the locks
The naive hare following the fox

There is no distance between two points

Preparing the palaces throne
for He who shall never be He
The mark of a saints deliverance
the signs of a bankers malice

Chasing the dragon,
Smoke and mirrors
A magicians cheap trick
A veil of denial
and what came of it
Behind bolted doors, the war drums march on
The world turns beneath us, the light in its eyes is gone
We remember and praise, as our fathers did
if our fathers are dead, in Gods great image
Then speak to the power your hands gave to men

Taking the palaces throne
From seduction and guns
He watches our world burn
We turn our blind eyes

Like the violent churn of the tide
When the moons full at night
Greeting Deaths cool hands
Saint Peter is locking the gates

Its when push comes to shove comes to break comes to war
Oppression in secret behind concrete doors
The hourglass empties itself of its sand
A desperate call to arms to silence his hand