They take their cross and their spikes and their thorns
And lead him up to the hill
They drink and gamble, they laugh and they scorn
And celebrate the fresh kill
They dance a dance of the guilty and free
Greet their shame with a kiss
Lost in some savage ecstasy
Found in some ignorant bliss
And they're
Running wild like dogs in a palace
Running scared with no clue
They bathe in anger, hatred and malice
But they know not what they do
No, they know not what they do
One thousand, nine hundred-seventy years
Give or take one or two
The same old circus still rings in the ears
Ain't nothing really that new
Same old black on the heart and the soul
Same old blood on the hand
We still fear whatever we cannot control
And crucify what we don't understand
And we
Raise a toast to the strong and the handsome
Paint the rest black and blue
We steal the beauty and hold it for ransom
But we know not what we do
No we know not what we do
We read the plays of our past and relive them
We're caught in some dark dejavu
But there's a voice crying father forgive them
For they know not what they do
They know not what they do