Led to you by a jury of angels
Whose wings you plumed with your malice
And it's sad what they did to your face
It's sad what they did to your face
My hands move but as instruments for their retribution
And it's sad what they did to your face
And it's sad what they did to your face
I don't need a prayer to talk to the dead
I don't need a gun to put a hole in your head
I don't need a prayer to talk to the dead
I don't need a gun to put a hole in your head
I don't need a prayer to talk to the dead
I don't need a gun to put a hole in your head
Nothing to break your fall from grace
You're far from the bottom
See through new eyes I got to replace
The ones that I hollowed
Your angels ordained all of this pain
To pay back their sorrow
It's sad what they did to your face
But the worst will follow
By the time I am done you will still be alive
But there will be less blood in your body
Than when we first met
No, there's too much mercy in this being where you rest
And I'll burden no sin, no
My soul, it will shine just as pure and just as bright
As the light that you stole, I am blessed to collect your debt
Your heart weighed against all my hate
And a feather for every wound you left behind
It will still be you who tips the scales
Are you going to kill yourself, or do I have to do it for you?