Red moon that hangs, hangs so very low its like blood from the dagger
Blood it is falling on bright white snow
Yes this age is dying sun burns through the mist
Reach out and grab his hand soon to be a fist

Surrender, surrender

Quiet now and stop, give yourself away don’t be captured and then chained
Now is the time its judgment day
Can You hear his voice calling out from a flame,
over and over he’s calling again and again

Surrender, surrender

He calls to you can’t you read the sign
The grapes they are gathered crushed in the press they wont make wine
He can lead you through
Path that’s covered in mist
Reach out and grab his hand soon to be a fist

Surrender, surrender