The thorn trees bring to mind the death of God
Jesus Mary Joseph they have fled.
Where is ritual, where the precious blood?
Where is Aaron with the iron rod?
The thorn trees bring to mind the death of God
Where is Noah in these days of flood?
Where can Jesus rest his sacred head?
Once he had a manger for a bed
Where is ritual whose the precious blood?
Herod killed the infants so it’s said
The Arctic wastes of life have done their⁷ job
The thorn trees bring to mind the death of God.
The armies fight, the headless ghosts take lead
Here’s the reaper with the scythe and hood
Rituals left behind,no more is said
There are no battle lines the war is shared
There is no water wine no precious blood
The middle east explodes, the devil smiles
The thorn trees crackle singing god is dead
How my heart sings 