Our knees were cracked and broken Genuflect in dirt and broken glass Grinds the teeth as black as the demons Of the cloth that come at night To rape our wretched flesh at the alter
The ghosts of the charnel house Were born to deathless guilt The ghosts of the charnel house Were born to shameful night
Pale backs are ripe from the lash Fingers worked to the bone Scavengers of the cross Flicker in perdition's light
Rancid leather and rotten faith Whelts young skin Charnel fodder for an unmarked grave In the house of the lord
The poor mouth speaks Of begging bowl politics It's words cast long shadows From the doorway of the charnel house To every ploughed field And rotten ear of corn We are born of deathless guilt And shameful night
