O mystic man,
sorcerer
He with the scar
marked over his heart
Lead the foolish astray,
lead them the false way
Jebel Musa
Born on the night of the blood moon
Practitioner of the dark arts,
conjuring mirages for a fee
You taught the children of Balaam well ...
had them to drink deep from the covetous cistern,
the corrupting waters
drawn
from
the
pit of hell
Jebel Musa
Rebel
Jebel
Lead the lost souls down to the empty well
Musa
For money you sold your name
False profits of damnation is your claim to shame —
you refused to let the thirsty prisoners go
Jebel Musa
Born on the day so many people died
at Baal-peor
Bathed in the tears of the widows that cried,
bemoaning the deaths
of their lovers, who loved hearing lies
Today, again you call out once more,
inviting all to your wicked sacrifice
at Baal-peor
To give false worship to the idols,
at the ruins of Shittim’s desolate shore
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