We're sowing seeds in arid ground To please a god that we never worshiped Blood climbs out from the eyelids of Chosen sons and daughters Fortune favours you The empty gesture repeats While your dirty little fingers clasp tight Around the altar Defilers dance Blessing the father A symbolic fallacy Masking their fantasy The fountain of youth, pours from the throats Of your children Place your hand in mine Or fall by the wayside Crawl out Crawl, bow Tear the mask, expose the face of truth It's your choice It's your choice