Holy grounds whisper,
slithering thoughts of grace
and redemption.

Resurrecting fallen beliefs
from great battlefields
in the heart of my corruption.

Born from the darkness,
every verse is spoken sin.

The terror and serenity build up,
painful tears run down my bitter face.
The conflict pounds,
and pounds the drum of hate.

Fiendish facades mask intrinsic turmoil
of a broken wretch.
Fall to the light or
accept the path of the ******.