king

The murmur grows

Until they rage

It is not a scenery

At this market-place in middle-ages

Somebody in the crowd

Speaks a prayer

Hundred burning torches rise

In their light appears the silhouette

Of a mighty FUNeral pile

Headling with some unknown herbs

Rising suspicion

Death" - they say

is what she deserves!"

An innocent victim

Instruments of torture

Will tell us the truth!"

And it feels like

Oooohhh...

I'm representing the church

Somebody said, in you might lurk

Things - still not seen by human eyes

Is is dark magic, you are practicing?"

After there are no tears left

And they thought, they'd feaced the fact

Nothing is as it should be

You're accused of witchery!"

If there is a creator

If there is a god..

You will pay for all the dead

There's punishment above!

And somebody outside

this chamber of horror

Knows my fear, knows my sorrow

You preach, how could I learn?

Cause in this faith is

Charity absurd!

After this words wer spoken

The cowd wants to see her die

The way to the confessor

Will it be the last one in her life

The murmur grows - until they rage

And somebody speaks a prayer

A prayer...