Rolled your eyes and somehow waxed poetic About the stations of the cross This is my blood and suffer little children To be victims of your vice at any cost Quiet now the news is always moving faster And they're sure to live it down While behind closed eyes the sheep are screaming so damn loud But everybody's bored with the sound As they prey on the meek who just pray to be free As they prey on the meek who pray to be free, but never will be Hollow lives shed burning tears from misread eyes Passed down though out all these bitter years Of silence that screams from tiny souls That grow up into broken hearts afraid of letting go