Sunday comes alive within the confines
of this monumental might.
In session we arrive, leaving all behind.
Blessings brought upon no one.
Meet the mundane, lukewarm and the whores,
please confirm them.
The rapture treated way behind closed doors,
please come for them.
Oh Lord, where can a man go?
We're all led astray.
Healing for the crowds.
Underground, the catacombs we roam,
flee through escape doors.
Take me to your leader,
show me what the world is longing for.
Oh Lord, where can a man go?
We're all led astray.