I'm searching stars to find my one with my feet on solid ground.
I am only a man, I stand six feet tall.
I deal in life and death, there's a noose around my neck.
I have turned to dust, six feet under.
As the preacher is standing above his people, damning the unholy as the church is burning. They've nailed him to a crucifix and they barked out all their sins like wild dogs.
Outside of their machines is fragile flesh and bone.
A song that strikes a nerve, a beating heart that burns.
If you find that gun to bleed out all your pain, I can't stick around, I'll see you under.
As the preacher is hung above his people, damning the unholy as the church is burning. They've found the knife to bleed their wrists, and they all screamed and howled like wild dogs.
As I am standing atop of the rubble, the ashes of a castle, it went as far as it could go. The clouds rolled out a familiar form, as they casted out the shadows of wild dogs.
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