144 thousand souls race their way though the cord
brought out by the howling screams, that wavelength
whirling out from that ceaseless eddy

I feel the pull of riptide currents
churning just beneath the surface

Is this the Judas kiss or a turn of cheek
which one of the saints will I be

All heroic stories fell short,
just a glimmer across Sampson's handsome face
It wasn't the lions jaw against the falling sun
The shears snapped down and Delilah gives the signal

History stains enough to forget those crippled pillars and I
I came out painted this way and I can't be changed