Letra de The Puritan's Hand
There is plague at the door And it begs to be among us In the ashen dreams Of crippled childrenThere is sickness in the soil And nothing grows this side of Eden Nor in the yearning abyss That is all things to men's hearts Nor in the skeletal tug Of motherhood that curses all with life That curses all with lifeThere is disease in the air And it grasps at the throat of virtue Rosary twist in leather hands And offer prayer for meAnd I have fought the God of men For my whole lifeCan you feel the puritans dead hand Throttles all lifeNow we sit at the table together Breaking bread and drinking blood wineAnd we spent the smallest hours Staring into the void Between sleep and dreams That stretch from the womb to the graveSo feel the puritan's dead hand as it throttles all lifeSo clasp your hands And bend your broken knees For no one else will And your confessions Of worthless guilt Are not your saving grace And so you seek You seek redemption at the puritan's hand Redemption