What happens when the dream is better than the waking?
What happens when we don't dread our own body breaking?
From our bed I can see the dark clouds start to seeth right above us
And my stare is hard and my grip on the knife tightens.
Holy, holy
Lethe, the only one from which we drink the water
Help us forget when we drink and feel the strength of the moment
We were never meant to be such vessels of physical form
May our bodies come to know the true fillings of the spirit of fire
Holy, holy
Thy love, thy love, thy love, thy love
My love, my love, my love, my love
Thy love, thy love, thy love, my love
You doubt and you're desperate, you wear both your cross and your hammer
Such beautiful dreams of violence, in them your tongue is made of silver
But we don't fight like animals - we fight like men
No, we don't fight like men - we fight like gods
Holy, holy
No we don't fight like animals, we fight like men
No, we don't fight like men, we fight like gods