Still bound by those chains on the steps to the Vatican
and I know it's just that again
the wait for a blessing which comes in disguise from
the sad eyes of a stranger,

Every chapel, church, cathedral or mission that I sit in
and wish in comes with a disclaimer,
You know who it is but I dare not name her.

I always recognise the eyes of the forsaken, the taken, the witch and the woken,

This is on me and the weight of my destiny kills me.