Holy

Bits of my gun are covered in blood

This town turned its back on the sun

Now they will see how swift judgement can be

Compared to a life on the run

Holy

The face of God appears to be

Holy

The face of God appeared to me

Another city glazed, carelessly placed

Withered and waiting for trial

And now we will see how swift judgement can be

When compared to a life of denial

Holy

The face of God appears to be

Holy

Mother Mary let them all die

Slowly

Hold me in your arms

And please console me

Forgive what I've done

I'm your son, please don't send me to Hell

These visions you see

They're not what they seem

Even a God can be wrong

This Virgin of peace is down on her knees

Begging for Death to move on

Holy, the face of God appears to be

Holy, Mother Mary, let them all die

Slowly, hold me in your arms

Appease them, solely

Forgive what I've done

I'm your son, please don't send me to Hell

Please don't send me to Hell, oh no