Blood on the World's Hands

The Golden Sun, His innocence,
His tears dry before they leave his eyes.
Looking at the plight of men,
And their evil shroud of certain doom.
They know not where their ways lead,
For their sins of evil, lust and greed.

The souls traverse the crimson sky,
Curse the reavers, pray no more may die.
The cathars and their undying will,
Fell a victim to a religious war.
As the untold stories go,
In the name of Lord a massacre.

Blood on the world’s hands,
The heroes rise and fall.
Blood on the world’s hands,
Evil takes it toll.

The Papacy of Innocent ,
To slaughter men a massive army sent.
The Fallen God, His dark mantle,
And His thirst for power insatiable.
Heretics and their beliefs,
The raging anger of the demon seed.

In the castle Montsegur,
Fighting fate and pure religious hate.
The Pope in his vicious tone,
“Kill them all – for God will know his own”.
And so were they all burnt down,
In the name of Lord a massacre.

Blood on the world’s hands,
The Heroes rise and fall.
Blood on the world’s hands,
Evil takes it toll.

For all the people damned to die.
The souls give a sad, demented cry.
God does watch, his ways unknown
To avenge those with a heart of stone.
And so has history shaped,
In the name of Lord a massacre…

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