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