The grim and grisly tale of a vengeful but long-dead robber, betrayed by his fellows, hanged then left to rot in a gibbet.
The hand of glory is a real historic practise, used to induce an enchanted sleep upon occupants of a chosen abode. It was made using the right hand of a dead murderer, severed at the wrist then fitted with wicks and lit. It allowed thieves and murderers to go about their business undisturbed. If anyone inside the property was not spellbound a finger would not burn, alerting the criminal to the danger.
CHORUS
Unbeliever, that's not the wind in the frame
d***ed deceivers, you hear me knocking
Hand of glory, pointing the finger at you
Godawful stories will all come true
VERSE 1
In this iron cage, the weather taunts me
Bleaches my bones
Eternal rage, it still blows through me
My heart a ruined and empty stone
And here I'll stay come rain and snow and shine
Locked out of life, locked out of time
Before my spirit crumbles into dust
I'll make amends for things unjust
VERSE 2
My post upon this hill
Shall be a beacon for all things ill
The day we're joined in torment and unrest
That day I swear by God shall be the best
And though the coaches seem to roll no more
Their wheels still spark, their horses roar
Before my pistol hammer turns to rust
I'll make amends for things unjust
OUTRO
You took the best from me, you took the breath from me
This hellish symphony shall guide you well
You stole the life from me, the trial the tragedy
This hell's cacophony shall guide you well
You stole the life from me...
The hand of glory is a real historic practise, used to induce an enchanted sleep upon occupants of a chosen abode. It was made using the right hand of a dead murderer, severed at the wrist then fitted with wicks and lit. It allowed thieves and murderers to go about their business undisturbed. If anyone inside the property was not spellbound a finger would not burn, alerting the criminal to the danger.
CHORUS
Unbeliever, that's not the wind in the frame
d***ed deceivers, you hear me knocking
Hand of glory, pointing the finger at you
Godawful stories will all come true
VERSE 1
In this iron cage, the weather taunts me
Bleaches my bones
Eternal rage, it still blows through me
My heart a ruined and empty stone
And here I'll stay come rain and snow and shine
Locked out of life, locked out of time
Before my spirit crumbles into dust
I'll make amends for things unjust
VERSE 2
My post upon this hill
Shall be a beacon for all things ill
The day we're joined in torment and unrest
That day I swear by God shall be the best
And though the coaches seem to roll no more
Their wheels still spark, their horses roar
Before my pistol hammer turns to rust
I'll make amends for things unjust
OUTRO
You took the best from me, you took the breath from me
This hellish symphony shall guide you well
You stole the life from me, the trial the tragedy
This hell's cacophony shall guide you well
You stole the life from me...