Psalms Alive

I am the nail that you can't strike
 I am the spear that will run you through
 And when the shots were falling we were sound asleep
 And you filled your palms with dirty bombs
 Instead of hand grenades
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 I am teeth which cannot bite
 I'll tear your garden up by the roots
 And when the shots were falling we were sound asleep
 And you filled your palms with dirty bombs
 Instead of hand grenades
 ♪
 Hear the seven bells toll
 Ringing loud for you
 Coroners and vultures
 Cry out, "Gloria!"
 All across the valley
 Onward towards the sun
 The two-bit prophet sways and
 Pulls a price from everyone
 Feel the heavy hoof-beats
 Pound across the land
 The sin of our forefathers
 Lies within our clutching hands
 What the planes pass over
 Hear it's call-to-arms
 The golden drunk of morning
 Made me striaight my bended knee