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...
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