The preacher said a prayer.
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Save ev'ry single hair on his head.
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He's dead.
|
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The minister of hate had just arrived too late, to be spared.
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Who cared?
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The weaver in the web that he made!
|
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The pilgrim wandered in,
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Commiting ev'ry sin that he could
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So good...
|
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The cardinal of grief was set in his belief he'd saved
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From the grave
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The weaver in the web that he made!
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The high priest took a blade
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To bless the ones that prayed,
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And all obeyed.
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The messenger of fear is slowly growing, nearer to the time,
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A sign.
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The weaver in the web that he made!
|
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A bishops rings a bell,
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A cloak of darkness fell across the ground
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Without a sound!
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The silent choir sing and in their silence,
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Bring jaded sound, harmonic ground.
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The weaver in the web that he made!
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-----------------
|
Mass
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| Emerson, Lake & Palmer |
