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Holy was the preacher.
Riding on his rig of steel in the rising sun.
This was no grim reaper.
But a man with a smile who took a pride in a job well done.
Ohh in a blood red sunrise.
He s preaching conversion as you lay down and die.

Just a god given holy roller.
In a god forsaken land.
He didn t choose this killing ground.
He didn t want this scrap of land.
You ve got to scorch the earth, yeah.
and make the rivers run dry.
Untill we learn to hate like him.
Kill for killin . Live to die.

[CHORUS:]

Ride on you son of a gun. Ride on. Ride into the setting sun.

You ve gotta be a hero, for one last time.
To prove through your destruction.
That killing is a great way of life.
There s a wooden cross somewhere.
Where they ll bury you down deep.
You lie to your people, You lie to yourself.
Your in love with death babe.
You ve got no shame.

[CHORUS]

The preacher laughed. The preacher cried.
He loaded bullets as he smiled.
Congregation sat and wondered.
Would they live or would they die.
Just an ordinary man, with his orders and his plans.
In the shadows of a cross.
Oh in a blood red sunrise.
Take me to jesus, with judas my guide.

[CHORUS]

Ride on your bleeding heart.
Ride on you play no part.
Ride on you feel no pity.
Ride on you feel no pain.
Ride into history.

Everybody s talkin bout what it is and what it ain t
What kinda house and what kinda paint
Everybody seems to be steppin in time
But it s much too fast and I gotta remind ya

Oooooohhh Gotta take it easy...

Oh they say some people long ago
Were searching for a different tune
One that they could croon as only they can

They heard the breeze in the trees
Singing weird melodies
And they made that the start of the blues

And from a jail came the wail
Of a down-hearted frail
And they played that as part...

After these things
I saw four demons standing
on the four corners of the earth

Holding the four winds
that the wind should not blow on the earth,
nor on the sea, nor on any tree

They opened The Pit Of The Beast

Their hands turn the world
Into the harmony of bizarre
Their hands touch the weak
The Sign...

Poranek znów otworzył twoje oczy
I nie wiesz, cóż na ciebie czeka dziś.
Najlżejszą z dróg przed siebie chciałbyś kroczyć
Lecz gotów bądź trudniejszą także iść.

Nasz każdy dzień to jakby całe życie,
Gdzie każdą z chwil miłością mierzy się.
Nasz każdy dzień to życia jest odbicie,
Szanujmy więc każdy jeden dzień.

Południe już, spraw tysiąc na nas...

So what if I was your lover
a thousand time before
you and all the others
still doesn t make me a whore
still doesn t make me yours
You try to say it s what happened, that you were there
Well so was I
You re mine, I know...