the lord. God of gods, light of light, Lo, he abhors not the virgin's womb; Very god, begotten not created O come let us adore him, etc. Sing, choirs
Him, born the King of angels Oh come, let us adore Him, oh come, let us adore Him Oh come, let us adore Him, Christ, the Lord God of gods, light of
make all that should be killed to crawl While others say don't hate nothing at all Except hatred. Disillusioned words like bullets bark As human gods
If you can't stand up to some old businessman Weddin' bells are ringin' and the choir is beginning to sing Yes, the weddin' bells are ringin' and the choirs
stands, dead on his feet Waiting for termites to resolve his conceit In the mountains, in the seas, in the air waits the disease We are not Gods, death
happy where you are Brighter than the galaxy You?re jumping over These four leaf clovers You?re high like heaven now And there are locks around your head A choir
The trees were bare when mama left us Now they bloom and fruit On Sunday morning when the church bells ring And the laundry's flapping in the southern breeze The choir
burdens of grief that weigh against me aid my tired eyes in their search for pitch your kind heart now pines for whom the gods love dies young wrapped
blind And still I'll drink some more She is the wine that makes harps and choirs The sweetest sound that the grapevine brings She is the wine that makes gods
pain ain't the same when it's your turn to burn We're the heart for the heartless, the thoughts for the thoughtless The lies for the honest, we're the gods
tellin you they don't challenge what they can't handle M-Y-S-T-I Smoke spinach, eat chicken, shit bullets, SPIT FIRE I'm above you like the sky Like the clouds like the Gods
you cant respect then that's peace My life's better without you actually To everyone out there, who's a little different I say damn a magazine, these are gods
the way of the stars (Choir) Like a dream immortal You crossed the dark Portal You will be blasphemer, deemer, dreamer This is the gift of the Gods
God's footballer hears the voices of angels above the choir at Molyneaux God's footballer stands on the doorstep and brings the good news of the kingdom
right there when that gangsta started cryin Twisted and wired, gun-mouth 4 hire The game that we it accept all liars Fears and desires, no court room choirs
write the history ov man 2000 years is nothing though it has been enough come forth victorious muting the foul angelic choirs! none ov thy empty gods
make all that should be killed to crawl While others say don't hate nothing at all, except hatred Disillusioned words like bullets bark As human gods
Him, born the King of angels O, come let us adore Him O, come let us adore Him O, come let us adore Him Christ the Lord God of gods, light of light
