There’s nothing in your hands, all you got is fables,
World’s caught in the misery, and the time tables,
Pray then for Christ Church, that our hands are washed,
The bond of trusts broken, hatred out there at large,
And souls flew out of the kingdom brutally barged.

There’s nothing in your hands, all you got is fables,
When injustices are carried out and born are rebels,
What do you do in holly land of Christ, these ashes and urns,
We beg you don’t disturb those in contact, all the praying ones,
Souls in communion with the Lord God, humanity gets heartburns.

No house of God is meant to be desecrated with death tolls,
Goes praying ones go to Holly places, consecrated with heart wholes,
When you go to Church, you go to pray and empty your souls,
From the mischief of the world, cause this rhapsody rolls,
In the land of Christ, do not play unfair, never play false.

For it is true, a Holly house of God is where women can enter,
Women go to circle their monuments, they forgot their printer,
But we have our own faith to learn from, our past is a hinter,
Christians have a soft manner, we don’t dwell in the forever winter.

For us they are slaves, for them, we are lost,
But in mutual wars, the innocent can’t pay the cost,
Spirit of mercy comes to everyone, we are not a bad host,
And we pray in the Churches to the father high most,
Save yourselves from wretchedness, don’t live in frost.