We break no promises
The thorn between our lips is the missionaries tune
We save no souls
We stand as thick as vines though the fruit is torn away
We break no promises
There is no beauty here, friends, just death and dark decay
We can do nothing more than move headlong through the gloom
There is no beauty here, just the stench of wine and beer
Observe as we approach that we have not come to save
But many went before us and still the cries are clear
We save no souls
We save no souls
Our men with open arms turn their faces half away