Оригинален текст
Just like the spread of disease.
Debt and guilt or guilt and decree, the masters that we please.
Yet if we seek help for infirmities, we are made twice the sons of hell as before.
Reach out your hand. Reach out your hand, only to be plagued by disease.
Reach out your hand. Reach out your hand, only to be plagued by disease.
While religion tries to blame what we cannot see, I accept that part of the problem is me.
It was never a sacred mandate to accept conformity,
through select revelations that we choose to believe.
Another blind guide replacing divine eyes.
Familiarity is the great deception, disguised by authority,
sealing out subversion.
Whitewashed tombs have hidden the truth, for we unknowingly
worship icons of ordinary life.
Reach out your hand to find forgiveness, only to be
plagued by disease.
The horrors of beliefs and customs, camouflaged by
commonality.
Reach out your hand, reach out your hand. Reach out
your hand, reach out your hand.
I still believe that there is hope for us, but I believe
we must look outside
the sanctuaries of oppression that have brought our world
so much pain.
Another blind guide replacing divine eyes (eyes).
Whitewashed tombs (whitewashed tombs) have hidden the truth.
Reach out your hand to find forgiveness, only to be plagued
by disease (plagued by disease).
Reach out your hand to find forgiveness (reach out your
hand), only to be plagued by disease.
Reach out your hand, reach out your hand.