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Lyrics
The grips of my guns are covered in blood
This town turned its back on the sun
Now they will see how swift judgement can be
When Compared to a life on the run

Holy, the face of God appears to be
Holy, the face of God appeared to me

Emergency grace, carelessly placed
Withered and waiting for trial
cnd now we will see how swift judgement can be
When compared to a life of denial

Holy, the face of God appears to be
Holy, Mother Mary, let them all die
Slowly, hold me in your arms and please console me
Forgive what I've done, I'm your son, please don't send me to Hell

These visions you seek
They're not what they seem
Even a god can be wrong
This Virgin of peace
Is down on her knees
Begging for Death to move on

Holy, the face of God appears to be
Holy, Mother Mary, let them all die
Slowly, hold me in your arms and please console me
Forgive what I've done, I'm your son, please don't send me to Hell

Please don't send me to Hell, oh no

WRITERS

Brad Magers, Joby Ford, Jorma Vik, Ken Mochikoshi-Horne, Matt Caughthran, Vincent Hidalgo

PUBLISHERS

Lyrics © BMG Rights Management

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