Het christendom afgebeeld als een sadistische doodscultus, i.p.v. een religie van liefde en vrede. Een zwerver die een opmerkelijke gelijkenis vertoont met traditionele afbeeldingen van Jezus wordt vermoord en gekruisigd door een priester die geobsedeerd is door de gruwelijke details van Jezus’ dood. Hoeft allemaal niet te verbazen, volgens de Sons of Perdition: Well, the preacher on Monday like the farmer on Sunday/And the shepherd out some other day, no they ain’t exempt/So don’t waste time with your tears, because it’s worse than you fear/You gotta get right out of town before your own day gets here.
See that girl weeping silent in her cold empty home
Watch her pretty flesh wither and drop from the bone
Smell the tears of that boy as they paint his poor face
His heart stumbles and it falters with complete lack of grace
Hear the man cursing softly as he dies in his bed
In the clutches of the cancer that blooms in his head
And feel the soul of that lady get sucked through the gates
Though her body treads onward down the path that she hates
Now taste the blood on the teeth of the only one you love
Now taste the blood on the teeth of the only one you love
Well, the preacher on Monday like the farmer on Sunday
And the shepherd out some other day, no they ain’t exempt
So don’t waste time with your tears, because it’s worse than you fear
You gotta get right out of town before your own day gets here
Now sow the seeds in that ground that grow so fallow and cold
You know they’ll never be found, I say they’ll only grow mold
‘Cause there ain’t gonna be no big harvest this year
I tell you time to settle debts, it is drawing so near
Now taste the blood on the teeth of the only one you love
Yeah, taste the blood on the teeth of the only one you love
