Band Of Matron Saints

Sisters of the son, who want to know the ne’er;
Bring love to all, who still press on. Hold to see, just one more wrong.
One more time
One more time
They state their penalties, and hide the aweful truth.
Where they peer and in much to prove
To build tributes to a better you.
Depend on matron saints, and come to here for me
With no-oh breeze, to bear more strife.
Bring in air, two holes maybe.
He holds his women dear, not your man of stone.
Purest soul n’sullied names
Build the things that we can home.