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lirik lagu tirsa vassals – gloson

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stagnant
zealots gathered
a parish reaches
for the clouds
venom
ancient curses
swarms the unclean
reliefs their host

the cleric smiles upon
the gilded pines
inside
a forbidden zone
a pilgrim’s land
a feather is falling down
from blinding light
the sin
gets washed away
in faith and blood
to be the filth in his dreams
a wish for grace as awkward
as tossing coins in a well
so modest yet so hollow

touched by the tip of the spear
a part of a new empire
lеad is burning hot through the barrel
as the hammеr comes down

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