Strange

your order is your anarchy
 your violence your peace
 your gospel is your blasphemy
 your famine is your feast
 destruction is your architect
 your woman and your priest
 I fear your falling sanctuary's
 soon to be your beast
 I believe in something strange
 the prophecies are closing in
 upon us one by one
 the angels of the seven churches
 maiden of the sun
 silent lay the gentle lamb
 the prayer and the gun
 I believe the gates above
 are closed to everyone
 I believe in something strange
 Prophets and angels fall from the altar
 weak is the grip of the hand of the brave
 pray for the bleeding that lie in the shatters
 pray for the dying that lie in their graves
 submission through guilt and fear
 is not what I had in mind
 and my blood has run far too thin
 among the hands of you all
 and I'm afraid I have nothing
 left for you
 a symphony of tragedy
 awakes a watchful eye
 a serenade of agony
 pours down from the sky
 the dancers of catastrophe
 go quickly spinning by
 I begin to understand
 the simple reason why
 I believe in something strange
 strange this song of mine