My soul is weary of our life,
I will leave my complaint upon myself,
I will speak in the bitterness of my soul,
I will undo the land of god,
Till you condemn me.

It matters not wherefore,
The contendest with me,
It is good unto thee that,
The shouldest oppress,
That thou shouldest,
Despise the work of thine hands,
And shine upon,
The counsel of the wicked.

You were crying out of my eye.

A madman's lantern falls broken upon,
Unfeeling ground,
What was holiest has bled,
To death under our knives,
Who will wipe this blood off us,
Who will wipe this blood off us.

Thy days are as the days of man,
For thou art mortal I shall diminish,
Thou knowest that I am wicked,
I am wicked,
There is none that,
Could deliver then out of my hand.

You sent the Dragon to fight,
You're killing the Lion.

A madman's lantern falls broken upon,
Unfeeling ground,
What was holiest has bled,
To death under our knives,
Who will wipe this blood off us,
Who will wipe this blood off us.

Silence the miricle
And over he is here to dead.

A madman's lantern falls broken upon,
Unfeeling ground,
What was holiest has bled,
To death under our knives,
Who will wipe this blood off us,
Who will wipe this blood off us.

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