WITH THEIR EYES CLOSED

THE SPIRITUAL SMELL OF INCENSE
IS WASTED IN THIS PLACE
THIS PLACE IS FILLED WITH HYPOCRISY
IT SMELLS OF WARS
IT SMELLS OF BLOOD
IT CONTROLS THE SHEEP THAT FLOCK IN HERDS
TO BE CONSOLED
TO FIND RELIEF
THEY'RE CRADLED IN THE ARMS OF LIES
WHERE THEY FEEL SAFE INSIDE

WITH THEIR EYES CLOSED
HOW CAN THEY KNOW WHAT EXISTS AROUND THEM
WITH THEIR EYES CLOSED
HOW CAN THEY KNOW WHAT CHAINS CONTROL THEM
WITH THEIR EYES CLOSED

SPIRITUAL LIGHT GROWS BRIGHTER
THOUGH NEVER IN THESE WALLS
THESE WALLS WERE BUILT WITH SWEAT AND TEARS
IT FEELS LIKE HOPE-IT FEELS LIKE LIFE
ITS A PRISON FOR THE WEAKER SOULS
THEY COME FOR STRENGTH-COME TO BELONG
THEY'RE CHEATED OUT OF THE TRUTH
THEY CANNOT SEE

CHORUS

c .1995 HONEY BANE

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