• We’ve learned to love the Holy One; his heart was made of pure gold
    He had a dream in which the murder of him was indeed foretold
    Of course his god would protect him, or at least he started to think
    A glimpse of all that was evil, shown in every blink
    He’d pray and pray, of course to no avail
    It was the devil that told his tale

    He’d preach to his followers, of course they were not real
    His youth was full of darkness; he thought he broke the seal
    The devil saw his happiness in preaching the word of god
    The Holy One’s teaching habits were in every way flawed
    The devil gave him illusions, the illusions were his life
    His followers, his hopes, his dreams and even his very own wife
    He’d pray and pray, of course to no avail
    It was the devil that told his tale

    The Holy One was dead, perhaps alive in his grave
    His dreams were once alive, life was what he gave
    He’d pray and pray, of course to no avail
    He was dead now, the devil has told his tale.