By Frank Peter Hermsen
My prayerīs for the father
My blood is for the son
My soul is for the spirit
But Iīm dieing in the sun
Iīm knocking on heavenīs door
Screaming to get out
Out of the hystery of guilt
Where Iīm not allowed to doubt
This is the dead end for the pain
The hell for all our fears
Letīs pull the nails out of the cross
And walk across the tears
An asylum for insane
Where noone is to blame
Pride instead of shame
The dead end of the pain
I donīt feel guilty anymore
Donīt wanna be blamed
For the wisdom of my questions
Donīt wanna be ashamed
This is to the one that gave me
The possibility to dream
To the mystic one that made me
Living in a scream
Thirty years in war
Against my own bloody hand
Wake up little Jesus
Make us leave this land
Weīre gonna hide from death
Kill those voices in our brains
Weīre bleeding all our sorrow
Into the bloodred rain
Đ FPH 1997