[Verse 1]
The acrid smell of burning branches, the relics all in ruin
Broken blades atop the altar, cheap substitutions
And the tapestry above torn down, trampled, then re-hung
Now illegible forever, an oracle with no tongue

[Chorus]
All of this, all of this
All of this before I got there

[Verse 2]
And in a pit behind the altar, the bodies of the fallen
Heavy tracks up to the lip just to prove that they were crawling
Faces turned toward the sky that they would never see again
Victims of the fallout, I have failed you sweet young men

[Chorus]
All of this, all of this
All of this before I got there