Tired limbs sing tired hymns of broken hearts and bones
exhausted by the sins that God or I cannot atone
dirty minds find dirty rhymes to mar our saintly ways
but holy ones become undone when beyond our saintly gaze

Wasted time seems so sublime when it's being wasted
but since I'm done, I've lost the sun, so little I've tasted
sent to hell, from Heaven fell, he used to be an angel
now after you, he always knew, he would be you male thrill

Tired limbs sing tired hymns of death beyond the grave
where no rest is found within the ground, where no one can be saved
searching souls are now controlled by he who was condemned 
while tired limbs sing tired hymns of a requiem