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 -
andquot;deathandquot; - they say -
andquot;is what she deserves!andquot;
- an innocent victim -
andquot;instruments of torture
will tell us the truth!andquot;
and it feels like
oooohhh...
andquot;iand'm representing the church
somebody said, in you might lurk
things - still not seen by human eyes
is is dark magic, you are practicing?andquot;
After there are no tears left
and they thought, theyand'd feaced the fact
andquot;nothing is as it should be
youand're accused of witchery!andquot;
andquot;if there is a creator
if there is a god...
you will pay for all the dead
thereand's punishment above!
and somebody outside
this chamber of horror
Knows my fear, knows my sorrow
you preach, how could i learn?
and'cause in this faith is
charity absurd!andquot;
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...
