So like your father in the face and blood
Terrified and cold
And whispers the coming of a cleansing flood
For you

You hide your filthy hands from all of us
Still unseen and tied
What water these killing hands
could ever clean
Still you run

I want to be changed from
The shadow and the tomb
Like water rushing over us
The tide pulls from the moon

Your mother the passing of a silver ring
Oversized and cold
This specter will walk the halls of every seed
From you

I want to be changed from
The shadow and the tomb
Like water rushing over us
The tide pulls from the moon