Thrice - Under A Killing Moon
The Air My Lungs First Loved,
Carves Craters From My Eyes.
They Said "breathe Deeply Son,
Or Be The Next To Die
Beneath The Falling Night,
And Heaven's Shutting Gate.
Pray Keep Your Tongue Held Tight,
Or Suffer The Same Fate.
The Blood On Our Black Gloves,
It Is None Of Your Concern.
You Want To Call Our Bluff,
Get In Line And Wait Your Turn,
And Watch The Witches Burn
Don't Flinch When Innocents,
Are Dancing With The Flames.
If They Wanted To Live,
They'd Learn To Play The Game.
You Can Still Walk Away,
If You Just Hold Your Tongue.
If You'd Just Walk Away,
You'd Live To See The Sun But...
Under This Killing Moon,
Under This Burning Sky.
The Fire's Shining Groom,
I Hold My Breath And Close My Eyes.
The Blood On Our Black Gloves,
It Is None Of Your Concern.
You Want To Call Our Bluff,
Get In Line And Wait Your Turn,
And Watch The Witches Burn.
We'll Watch The Witches Burn.
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