From the Book of Isaiah, Chapter 48:22 “There is no peace, saith the Lord, unto the wicked.” You've spread carnage and chaos You've caused dissension and grief Your judgment comes at sundown Your last rights are concrete You lived a life of evil Betrayal and deceit A vile and hollow creature Sentenced to swing in the heat There is no peace for the wicked No rest beneath the soil No mercy in the pine box For a life consumed by spoil Last rights of the wicked Read beneath the hanging tree No hymns left for redemption No pardon to set free Last rights of the wicked Cold verdict carved in stone The gallows creak at midnight And you walk the dark alone Your tongue dripped poison slowly Your hands delivered pain Now widows line the backroads As black clouds call your name You'll never know true calmness You'll hear the endless cries Of every soul you buried Beneath your web of lies Pine box... bed of thorns now Lowered through deadened leaves No prayer can wash the dirt away No mercy left to plead “There is no peace...” “No peace...” “Unto the wicked...” The rope pulls tight at twilight Church bells shake the sky Crowds gather near the courthouse To watch the guilty die No saints walk beside you No lantern lights the way Just the sound of wooden gallows As the cold wind starts to sway Last rights of the wicked Read beneath the hanging tree No hymns left for redemption No pardon to set free Last rights of the wicked No rest beyond the grave The pine box waits in silence For the soul you could not save
