Raise your chin and howl Until all your insides are inside out The air is black and foul Sitting in the basement and wanting for you to come down When your hands move like roots Making their way through the ground Oh, come all ye faithful Come men, women, servants and sons Leave behind your golden wings for the sticks and rocks and mud And if thee should die tonight Well it won't be without a sound When your hands move like roots Making their way through the ground When your hands move like roots When your hands move like roots When your hands move like roots Making their way through the ground