Lyrics: Andrew John Hozier
Music: Andrew John Hozier
My lover′s got humour, he's the giggle at a funeral
Knows everybody's disapproval
They should've worshipped him sooner
If the heavens ever did speak, he's the last true mouthpiece
Every Sunday's getting more bleak, a fresh poison each week
"We were born sick"
Heard them say it
Take me to church, I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies
I'll tell you my sins, and you can sharpen your knife
Offer me that deathless death, good God, let me give you my life
Take me to church, I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies
I'll tell you my sins, and you can sharpen your knife
Offer me that deathless death, good God, let me give you my life
If I'm a pagan of the good times, my lover's the sunlight
To keep the goddess on my side, she demands a sacrifice
To drain the whole sea, get something shiny
Something meaty for the main course, that's a fine looking high horse
What you got in the stable? We've a lot of starving faithful
That looks tasty, that looks plenty, this is hungry work
Take me to church, I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies
I'll tell you my sins, so you can sharpen your knife
Offer me that deathless death, good god, let me give you my life
Take me to church, I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies
I'll tell you my sins, so you can sharpen your knife
Offer me that deathless death, good god, let me give you my life