They call me the man with the blood of Christ, honestly,
but tonight I drink with heathens and the finest of our blastphamies
in wine there's truth but in silence there's surrender
a screaming for the silence in stunned suspicious terror

built a temple in my life and used God to seal the pillars
after twenty years of fighting young heritics and killers
I watched my temple fall to pieces (at the first sign of oncoming weather)
I fell to my knees just like jesus in the cave
I knew i would die by my lips could only say:

"I am not your son so why have you forsaken me?"

There's a hole in my heart but it just makes me unholy.

Crucified that night and walked away with alter-ego
Like the prison priest who preaches his dead and buried gospel,
while my faith's in ruins my duty breathes strong.
I'm a parrot in a cage saying prayers to belong

To a textbook of my crying, lying, dying history;
a time so full of life that I was anything but me.