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Disciple, False idol,

Which path will you tread?

Sacred city, Wailing Walls,

Built on mountains of the dead.

Believers, Deceivers, Predators and prey.

Pouring oil onto the fire: Garden to a funereal pyre.

Drawing lines in the sand

Over and over again until nothing remains.

Seers and prophets,

Make their profit,

While the innocent pay.

Crescents, crosses and stars

Live so close but stand so far.

Drawing lines in the sand

Over and over again until nothing remains.

Drawing lines in the sand from the blood on our hands

Until hope gives way.

From a cradle, to a crater, to ashes we return.

The voice of God it seems so high

Drifting off in the sky.

Drawing lines in the sand

Over and over again

Until nothing remains.

Drawing lines in the sand

From the blood on our hands

Until hope gives way.