Candles flicker, shadows crawl, Ancient words echo through the hall, A table set beneath the cross, Bread and wine for the one they lost. Stone cold floor and organ's breath, A feast that whispers about death.[Intro] [Verse 1] Why does the ritual sound so grim? Bread for the body, wine for Him, A cup raised high in a candlelit room, A sacred feast inside a tomb. Linen white like burial sheets, Footsteps soft on the ancient streets, The priest speaks low, the people bow, To something old they honor now. They say it's holy, they say it's divine, But horror lives between bread and wine, A story of death retold each week, A mystery hiding beneath what they speak. The blood in the cup, the flesh in the bread, Symbols of sacrifice, memories of the dead, I stare at the altar and wonder why A story of dying must never die. [Pre-Chorus] And the choir hums like wind through stone, A language older than flesh and bone, Why are you drinking the blood? Why are you eating the body? A ritual born from a sacrifice, Wrapped in something holy.[Chorus] Why is the table dressed like a grave? Why does the ancient story stay? Blood and bread beneath stained glass, A shadow from a distant past. [Verse 2] Don't mistake the question for a simple attack, I'm staring at the symbols and I'm pulling them back, Peeling through layers of centuries old, Trying to understand what the ritual holds. It's not literally flesh, that's not what they claim, But the imagery still carries the name, Body and blood as symbols of grace, Death and redemption in the same place. A wooden cross and a cup in the night, Faces illuminated by flickering light, The room goes silent, the prayers begin, And everyone remembers the story again. Hands to chest and heads bowed low, Repeating words they already know. [Chorus 2 - Bigger] Why are you drinking the blood? Why are you eating the body? If it's love, why does it taste like loss? If it's mercy, why hang it on a cross? Why is the table dressed like a grave? Why does the ancient story stay? Is it comfort? Is it fear? That keeps bringing us here, year after year. [Bridge - Spoken / Whispered] Maybe it's metaphor, Maybe it's memory, Maybe it's faith wrapped in mystery, Maybe the darkness makes meaning appear, Maybe the ancient symbols conquer fear. But when the candles burn low, And the shadows stretch, The language of sacrifice Still leaves its mark. A mark on the lips, a mark on the soul, A story of how broken becomes whole. [Verse 3] I walk through the cathedral after everyone leaves, Dust in the air and the sound of the trees, Empty wooden benches staring at me, A crucifix hanging where the shadows meet. The cup sits still beneath the fading light, The bread waits quietly through the night, No monster rises, no corpse comes alive, Just symbols carrying stories that survived. Stained glass saints with hollow eyes, Watching centuries live and die, And I'm just one more asking why We tell of death to feel alive. So I question the ritual, I question the scene, The space between what is said and what is seen, Not every mystery needs to be feared, But every old symbol deserves to be heard. [Breakdown / Final Chorus - Stripped then Full] Why are you drinking the blood? Why are you eating the body? The language sounds horrifying, But the meaning goes beyond it. Why is the table dressed like a grave? Why does the ancient story stay? Blood and bread beneath stained glass, Echoes of a sacrifice from the past. Echoes of love that outlived the grave, Of the one who died and the ones he saved. Candles die and the church goes black, The ancient story still echoes back, Bread and wine on an empty table, Faith and symbolism beneath the fable.[Outro] Shadows crawl where the candles were, A question lingers in the air... Bread and wine... Blood and prayer...
