[Verse 1]

The acrid smell of burning branches, the relics all in ruin

Broken blades atop the altar, cheap substitutions

And the tapestry above torn down, trampled, then re-hung

Now illegible forever, an oracle with no tongue

[Chorus]

All of this, all of this

All of this before I got there

[Verse 2]

And in a pit behind the altar, the bodies of the fallen

Heavy tracks up to the lip just to prove that they were crawling

Faces turned toward the sky that they would never see again

Victims of the fallout, I have failed you sweet young men

[Chorus]

All of this, all of this

All of this before I got there