Organ, organ, organ grinder's henchmen
Shaking their coins in time
Guild of mute assassins
Will convene at a quarter to nineBehind the court house atop a scaffold
Stands a man with a bag for a face
You will not have learned until I return
To give my executioner the chaseThe swinging of its censers
The silence of its members
Oh, the guild of mute assassinsFrom the places in-between
That are so seldom seen
Oh, the guild of mute assassinsWidow in the furrow with thimbles
Hasn't seen her face in years
Kneels into a puddled reflection
To find it is just as she's fearedAnd 'In The Garden', the 'Archangel'
Sword above his head
You will not return until you have learned
What you've forgottenThe swinging of its censers
The silence of its members
Oh, the guild of mute assassinsFrom the places in-between
That are so seldom seen
Oh, the guild of mute assassinsBaby, on a threshold with silver
Breath rises from its lips
Beam of yellow light from a doorway
And the figure of a silhouetteAnd in the cradle a wood stiletto
Rattles like a barrow of bones
A young journeyman with a passion
Silently recites the oathThe swinging of its censers
The silence of its members
Oh, the guild of mute assassinsFrom the places in-between
That are so seldom seen
Oh, the guild of mute assassinsThe swinging of their censers
The silence of its members
Oh, the guild of mute assassinsFrom the places in-between
That are so seldom seen
Oh, the guild of mute assassins