Rick Miller - Opus Dei | Текст песни

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• Rick Miller
• Opus Dei

Dark pews, cold stone, two things bright,
The glint of the blessed blade,
The alter bathed in candlelight.

He reads from the good book and continues to pray,
The mark of the Lord is coming,
He must fight the good fight, Opus Dei.

He lifts his hood and heads into the night,
Gripping tightly the blessed blade,
His knuckles icy-white.

I pass the Yew tree and the dreaming spire,
The snow teases with its eery silence,
And then I see the stranger's eyes, hooded and on fire.

I feel the slide of the blade, I fall, I see the crucifix,
And as the light fades from my eyes,
He searches for Satan's mark, the triple-six.

He prays for my soul, kneeling on the crimson floor,
The soldier of God departs, quest unfulfilled,
I wasn't the one, just a consequence of the holy war.

Falling, falling into an eternal twilight,
I am on the outside looking in, cold and alone,
The ice sparkles with dawn's first light.

You answer the door,
Two figures, their expressions say it all,
The cut of their words make you fall to the floor.

I watch you with a torment no words can explain,
On the stone is engraved 'Hold her gently dear earth',
A single red rose, a scant symbol of our pain.

But my thread is not cut and I cannot leave,
The blessed blade was nothing but a curse,
I can offer no comfort as you continue to grieve.

I scream and scream but you cannot hear,
Your face buried deep in your hands,
Through your fingers fall hot, salty ears.

My ice-cold hands beat on the frosty glass,
But all you hear is the raging storm,
You ask yourself 'why?' and dream of a life gone past.

You reach for the book and begin to pray,
You have found God, desperate for solace,
If only you knew, Opus Dei.

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