This Old Wooden Chapel

(creak) (hummmm) The altar is covered

in rot and decay The stained glass is broken,

the saints turned away

I sleep in the shadows

where nobody prays

And count all the decades that withered

away

The midnight wind

howls through the pine

I pour out a dark,

bitter wine

Lord, save my soul from the wood and the stone This old

wooden chapel is not quite a home The cross on the steeple

is starting to lean

But the thirst in my throat is the coldest I've seen A

traveler stopped by

to hide from the rain

He knocked on the heavy oak door in his pain

I welcomed him in with a

shadow of grace

And wiped all the crimson right off of my face

Lord, save my soul from the wood and the stone This old

wooden chapel is not quite a home The cross on the steeple

is starting to lean

But the thirst in my throat is the coldest I've seen

No daylight will ever shine through!

The rafters are rotting in two!

I'm locked in this prison of pine!

Just the dust...

And the pine... (ahhhh)