The point was made and had to be laid
Upon the heads of the people
The bell that hung since had rung
The changes from the steeple.
Angry politicians scream, "We are the way".
Whilst Armies plunder through the night
To rape all they can lay.
Through the haze and out of the maze
I tried to get myself through
But the tolling of the bells
Only served to blur my view.
Orders given, rule my living
There can be no turning back
But in the end, my only friend
Was a dead man dressed in black.
Cannons roar up to the door with a kicked in stomach feeling
A Soldier lies until he dies in a land he's really stealing
Church Bells peal as if to steal, the glory from his hand
and Quistlings turn out in the land, to dance their victory chant.
The mad Monk tolls Angelus, to prove that he was right
A Ship that lists into the mist, is a graveyard in the night
An I myself stand back to stare, at slaves of tattooed sails
Loneliness has captured them, and crossed their palms with nails.