Chapel of The Broken Hearted

The Chapel of the Broken Hearted



With longing and with sorrow,

The rusted bell chimes till the 'morrow

When the sun in all its perverse glory

Shines o're the crumbling halls.



And the shattered glass is stained,

With unholy blood ordained,

By the hand of him who sits

Not at the right hand of God.



The vines choke up the trees

Which cry out with dying leaves,

As the Reaper stands,

To welcome you inside.



All the pews are rotten wood,

And the altar's filled with blood,

Here inside the Chapel

Of the Broken Hearted.



The Preacher is on fire,

Strapped to an inverse cross-shaped spire,

And his pleading screams

Fall upon deaf ears.



For each nameless face that's kneeling,

Is of their own sins revealing,

And to whatever god

They're praying for a chance.



To have their life time's sins forgiven,

And to leave this crumbling prison,

And to walk among the living,

Once again.



But the candelabra all burn blackly,

And the raven mocks, "You shan't be free"

But remain captive at the Chapel

Of the Broken Hearted.



Now the full moon shines blood red,

And all whom are dying or are dead,

Come to join the congregation,

At the Chapel of the Broken Hearted.