"Sell a mirage," says the voice of the cunning,
Button-down yes-men market it well,
"Sell a mirage and the hordes come running,"
Cheap grace rains like pennies from hell.
In the cool flame flickers some psychopath stickman, beeping to the cameras, begging for trust,
But the seeds lie here in a proud heart, needing your covering under...
Under the blood, under the blood,
A cover under the blood,
Under the blood, under the blood,
There's a refuge under the blood.
Shutter the room, there's a light penetrating,
Stickmen tremble and cover their eyes,
Shutter this room, there's a judgement waiting,
Cheap grace rains down quite a surprise,
In the stained glass ghetto there's a hired hand setting up a table in remembrance of no one at all,
And if I'm that man, could your mercy bring me back into a communion?
Under the blood, under the blood,
Communion under the blood,
Under the blood, under the blood,
Can you reach me?
Under the blood there's a light in the hollow,
Under the blood - where you lead I will follow,
And the blitzkrieg drones, and the bleeding earth groans, and your comforter heals me, whispering hope,
You're alive in the soul of a sinner, cover me under...
Under the blood.
