[Verse 1]
Down along the border upon a lonely night
I saw a man in flowing robes, his hair was snowy white
He said he was 500 years, and his hands were cold as ice
Touching all the dead men who'd paid the highest price
For living on his mountains and running in his grass
Said he'd come to take his payment before the hour would pass
[Chorus]
There are no saints or teachers
No, no reason here nor rhyme
Just the black-robed missionaries of death
To toll the bells of time
[Verse 2]
He was tired of seeing thieves upon what once was his alone
And ashes in his valleys where once the flowers had grown
Said he'd seen the foreign kings come marching through the mud
To carve their image on the land and write their names in blood
And leave a legacy of hate upon this sleeping land
That she might never rise again to bite the feeding hand
[Chorus]
There are no saints or teachers
No, no reason here nor rhyme
Just the black-robed missionaries of death
To toll the bells of time
[Verse 3]
He'd seen the haloed churches rise, he'd watched the heroes fall
Lie beneath their banners while Judas stands so tall
Or behind Caesar's scarlet sword a smiling Jesus stands
No thorns upon his hooded brow, no holes into his hands
No cross on his shoulders, there is no mark of shame
Upon the sellers of the truth so none may know their name
[Chorus]
There are no saints or teachers
No, no reason here nor rhyme
Just the black-robed missionaries of death
To toll the bells of time
Down along the border upon a lonely night
I saw a man in flowing robes, his hair was snowy white
He said he was 500 years, and his hands were cold as ice
Touching all the dead men who'd paid the highest price
For living on his mountains and running in his grass
Said he'd come to take his payment before the hour would pass
[Chorus]
There are no saints or teachers
No, no reason here nor rhyme
Just the black-robed missionaries of death
To toll the bells of time
[Verse 2]
He was tired of seeing thieves upon what once was his alone
And ashes in his valleys where once the flowers had grown
Said he'd seen the foreign kings come marching through the mud
To carve their image on the land and write their names in blood
And leave a legacy of hate upon this sleeping land
That she might never rise again to bite the feeding hand
[Chorus]
There are no saints or teachers
No, no reason here nor rhyme
Just the black-robed missionaries of death
To toll the bells of time
[Verse 3]
He'd seen the haloed churches rise, he'd watched the heroes fall
Lie beneath their banners while Judas stands so tall
Or behind Caesar's scarlet sword a smiling Jesus stands
No thorns upon his hooded brow, no holes into his hands
No cross on his shoulders, there is no mark of shame
Upon the sellers of the truth so none may know their name
[Chorus]
There are no saints or teachers
No, no reason here nor rhyme
Just the black-robed missionaries of death
To toll the bells of time
( David McWilliams )
www.ChordsAZ.com