|
Our tounges they could not silence, |
|
with their malicious lies, |
|
their unforgotten violence, |
|
remember those who died. |
|
And as my flesh is put to fire, |
|
I hear their voices still, |
|
their unjust accusations, |
|
demanding I am killed. |
|
'We shall show no mercy to heathen |
|
such as thee, |
|
who stand accused and have refused |
|
the Church's clemency, |
|
your wicked acts are endless, |
|
though the crimes they cannot name, |
|
innocent or guilty proved, |
|
we'll burn you just the same.' |
|
Burning, into the fire. |
|
Burning, a funeral pyre. |
|
Burning, into the fire. |
|
Burning, a funeral pyre. |
|
This self-righteous inquisition, |
|
is a plague upon our land, |
|
as false as the confessions they force |
|
from shattered hands. |
|
(Repeat 3 & 4) |
|
Abused my broken body is cleansed |
|
by righteous flame, |
|
their God a 'God of Mercy' - |
|
yet in whose name I'm slain. |
|
My innocence the victim of their |
|
superstitious fears, |
|
religious persecution for the past |
|
three hundred years, |
|
preaching peace and mercy 'neath the |
|
shadow of the knife, |
|
a papal reign of terror - |
|
slaughter in the name of Christ. |
|
(Repeat 2,3 & 4) |
