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The chalice cracks beneath the weight of everything it once contained

Holy water turns to crimson filth between the fingers of the priest

The altar collapses into the tomb of the faith that built it

And I walk through the ruins wearing its ashes as my crown

March beneath a moon blackened by the smoke of burning shrines

The graves open slowly as the buried hear the sound of our procession

A thousand withered hands emerge to tear apart the sacred ground

And salvation crawls from the soil with a mouth full of maggots

Raise the broken cross above the graves and cast it into the fire

And watch the last promise of salvation disappear into smoke