The blood upon my hands, congealed and iris dark
Stares up at my face with a gaze as deep as Gods
A hymn dies in my throat and I feel distant from my body
And cold as death inside
A people chained and bound were taken from their country
And transformed overnight into homeless, beaten cogs
Rough hands on the wheel, crossing the Atlantic
Riding westward to the sugarcane plantations
As the shadow of the cross falls across the alter
The bread looks just like flesh and the wine resembles blood
As I watch the faithful feeding I cannot understand
All this hunger for empire, or the heart of any man
And the sermon sinks like stone, its words are like a plumb-line
Tied around my tongue and pulling everything inside
Is it my hands around the wheel, crossing the Atlantic
Riding westwards towards the sugarcane plantations?
Ian Perry - Slaver Lyrics
Ian Perry - Slaver Lyrics
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The blood upon my hands, congealed and iris dark
Stares up at my face with a gaze as deep as Gods
A hymn dies in my throat and I feel distant from my body
And cold as death inside
A people chained and bound were taken from their country
And transformed overnight into homeless, beaten cogs
Rough hands on the wheel, crossing the Atlantic
Riding westward to the sugarcane plantations
As the shadow of the cross falls across the alter
The bread looks just like flesh and the wine resembles blood
As I watch the faithful feeding I cannot understand
All this hunger for empire, or the heart of any man
And the sermon sinks like stone, its words are like a plumb-line
Tied around my tongue and pulling everything inside
Is it my hands around the wheel, crossing the Atlantic
Riding westwards towards the sugarcane plantations?
Stares up at my face with a gaze as deep as Gods
A hymn dies in my throat and I feel distant from my body
And cold as death inside
A people chained and bound were taken from their country
And transformed overnight into homeless, beaten cogs
Rough hands on the wheel, crossing the Atlantic
Riding westward to the sugarcane plantations
As the shadow of the cross falls across the alter
The bread looks just like flesh and the wine resembles blood
As I watch the faithful feeding I cannot understand
All this hunger for empire, or the heart of any man
And the sermon sinks like stone, its words are like a plumb-line
Tied around my tongue and pulling everything inside
Is it my hands around the wheel, crossing the Atlantic
Riding westwards towards the sugarcane plantations?
Writer: Ian Perry
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid