---

Rest easy my old friend.

You've earned your slumber 'til the end.

But soon you will be risen,

And you'll never sleep again. Again

The Vicar of Christ decrees.

The canonized must be seen.

Pulled from your crypt and adorned.

As they oil and wash you clean. Made clean

Seven Orchids on a grave

No one knows just where they've laid

Until they're taken by the wind

And we're all washed clean again

And so they call you patron now

A hand of God to some, somehow

And the prayers they never end

And you'll never sleep again. Sleep again

Seven Orchids on a grave

No one knows just where they've laid

Until they're taken by the wind

And we're all washed clean again

Clean again. Clean again

Seven Orchids on a Grave

For the lost and the saved

All taken by the wind

And we're all washed clean again. Clean again

Wash me clean again.

Clean again. Oh, clean again