Hell March

Hold my tongue for I can't speak Of all the things I see Goats and hawks with crooked hands Disguised as lambs and priest Oh the altar is on fire All the rafters bones Of witches Singing from their burning post Oh millions of flags Scattered all around Solders feet swinging in place of them Feet never gonna touch the ground And if there is a God Who could answer for all these things When I'm dead and gone Their gonna have to beg forgiveness from me