they are handing out papers
fortelling the end
and each generation fears it is them
go find your enemys
and lets brake bread
before the beast is revived
the clock is the master
it hangs on the wall
but time would not stop
if the clock were to fall
so burry your heads
to escape from it all
a hard way to make
amends
she dresses in black
and paints her eyes
not really fashion
more off a disguise
and scars on her arm
from a diliberate knife
makes her mother cry
poison water drawn from a well
contaminates all so no one can tell
this one to heaven and that one to hell
its a sad story but easy to sell
so open your wandering eyes
now listen close to what i am saying
we dont have to whisper cause the children are playing
but rain clouds are forming
and wind is displaying
a movie set where the actors are saying
the director is drunk
and the story is straying
from point to point
and forms a mosaic
of all the words
the preacher
was saying