My hands are red Admittedly, the cross is mine The time is come Forsake the brine Alone with the void for a thousand years I am the first of the reptillian rocketeers Doom shins it's bitter brink Its goblins casting stench to pave the way I'm going off to seek the soul Who'll teach me of the day A boy will be born in the garden I'll wait on a patch of green grass Somehow he'll know to find me there And place a star upon my crust We'll trace the crescent's rim Pawn's pursuit of deliverance My soul a satchel for musical vim Then I'll return to save my race
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