37th - The Holy Masquarade

The demi-gods enter,
All in a quiet pace,
All in such grace,
All so sinless,
All so faceless,
The demi-gods enter.

They all wait,
All in a silent prayer,
All under a silent husher,
Praying like parrots,
Praying for merits,
They all wait.

Then the bell goes off,
And all stand up straight,
There he goes,
In his holy white robes,
With his underlings,
All in a row,
All off to the altar.

The masquarade begins...

He makes the sign of the cross,
And the celebration of mass starts,
And all so holy,
Oh all so holy!

They bow down,
Bow their faceless face,
Their shameless, faceless face.

The ceremony proceeds,
And the faces are still so holy,
Oh all so holy!

The celebrator smiles with glee,
As he preaches the word,
Preaching the divine,
Preaching the holy,
Still so holy!
Oh all so holy!

They bow down,
Bow their faceless face,
Their shameless, faceless face.

The celebrator smiles with glee,
As he proceeds,
All so plain sailing,
All so holy,
Oh all so holy!

The mass had come to an end,
And so has the masquarade...
All the demi-gods flock to the door,
Pushing each other to the floor,
Go give way for them and pass,
For somebody is behind them,
Scaring them for life.

All their faceless faces,
Start to peel off,
All their faceless faces,
Start to surface,
All their sins,
All their darkness,
All their guilts,
All their scars,
All their falsities.

Patterned on their face,
Like a Mask of Grotesque,
Patterned on their face,
Like a Mask of Truth.

The Masquarade has ended,
And the light went out,
All of the holiness,
Frailed away,
Died in the streets...

All so unholy,
Oh all so unholy...!