Marble stairs in this cathedral,
Built by these hands five hundred years before.
We will make good men better.
We will make good men better.

Draw the right hand across the neck.
Drop the arm down to your side.
I hear the voices calling in the night.

Thirty-three degrees.
Accepted right of hypocrisy.
From this bitter cup we all shall drink.
Here I am awake, it's 2AM; it's getting late.
All I know is something isn't right.

We will make good men better.
How can you make good men better?

Draw the right hand across the neck.
Drop the arm down to your side.
I hear the shadows calling in the night.

Get up, get down, get out.
The fire's burning now.
Our bodies burned to ashes.
They'll be scattered to the forests.

Does it ever even faze you,
That your father's involvement with a cult,
Nearly killed your first born child?