Blight

Freudian slip, i told my god i'm worried
No menial trip, my breath and thoughts are hurried
But i know satan's what i believe in most
I feel his presence start to thicken as i see the coast
Paid off both the fisherman handsomely, told 'em "leave me be"
I could feel satan tighten his grip as i seen 'em leave
Lookin at the island from this angle almost seems like peace
If nothing else comes out of this, least of all i had seen a beach
I had always knew its my destiny for my need to preach
Satan's final stronghold, on the wound like an evil leach
Many generations in this place had turned to fossil bones
And all the while skipped religious practices and fought alone
No one else is brave enough to face the storm and enter in
To tell them of the god that they've neglected, how to let him in
As these thoughts are running through my mind, a man draws his bow
I had asked for word from above, but heard from down below

Now my hands wet
I just paint the sand red
I'ma ransack
Pummeled in his damn head
Bless, blight
Bless, blight
Now my hands wet
I just paint the sand red

I hear it again
I hear it again
I hear it again
I hear it again
I hear it again
I hear it again
I hear it again
I hear it again

And i am not ashamed to say that i'm scared of the devil's place
I still see them laughing and pointing with coated yellow paint
Touch upon this hole in my bible from where his arrow struck
But i assume they're scared of me too, i guess fair enough
Speaking to this book again, truly i think i speak to you
I can feel your presence, and i can tell i should see it through
I can feel the wind of changes cool the ground throughout the land
I can feel your body and mind working throughout the sand
I can tell your plan does not include letting these people burn
But why does no one else seem concerned
Paid off both the fishermen handsomely, told 'em "go away"
I should spare them watching me die if this doesn't go my way

Now my hands wet
I just paint the sand red
I'ma ransack
Pummeled in his damn head
Bless, blight
Bless, blight
Now my hands wet
I just paint the sand red

A man walks in a tribe holding a bible, what a silly joke
To think that one can change a place of hatred with a silly quote
I look on the shore to get a signal, but the man's dead
View his body dragged across the ground, leaving the sand red