Holy War

I'm sorry for my ways.

I'm sorry for the days,

I push so carelessly

the truth away from me.

I'm sorry that I forget.

I'm sorry that I don't let,

myself in muffled cognizance,

to be your happy prince.

But life is a holy war,

we fight for nothing more-

but you're my spring my grace,

the breeze upon my face.

Let battlefields alight

to pacify the night

allowing me to grieve

for the joys we could achieve

If I learnt to ignore

all that has come before

And picking up the slack

I will take my burden back

But life is a holy war,

we fight for nothing more-

but you're my spring my grace,

the breeze upon my face.

Coda

Life is a holy war, oh-oh-oh.

Life is a holy war.

Life is a holy war, oh-oh-oh.

Life is a holy war.