From North to South
singing in taverns
with my guitar,
I met him.

Dressed in a suit and tie,
his followers while,
silent scavengers,
fill their pockets no matter where.

Always seems to smile at us,
but don´t ever trust him,
cause he does it
to the camera, his mass pulpit.

As if he were your friend,
shaking your hand,
always charming,
whispering to you.

Little by little takes
hold of your mind.
Just like a damn snake
that slowly it slides.

Hopelessly he grabs your soul,
easily surrendered,
in a locked box
that you´ll surely lose forever.

New melody I hear in my mind,
over and over again.
“The Preacher” is behind the smile,
liar and fierce like no else.
Cheating with promises
wherever he goes.
You know they´re not true
his empty words,
surrounding us with all these lies
that you can't get out of your head.

But I keep rolling road
guitar in hand.
And I keep bumping
into him.

You know the time will come
to put someone else in his place,
but everything will remain the same.
You lost when you met him.

And always with that winning face,
and that big fake smile,
ever charming… liar… fierce.

New melody I hear in my mind,
over and over again.
“The Preacher” is behind the smile,
liar and fierce like no else.
Cheating with promises
wherever he goes.
You know they´re not true
his empty words,
surrounding us with all these lies
that you can't get out of your head.