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?