Truth Stood Helpless

Giordano Bruno

Verse 1

There's no faith or religion in me,

I chose to live without it to be free,

But there is sadness walking by my side,

For doubt and questions I cannot hide.

Through changing ages doctrines have bent,

Yet wounds of history never end,

Can cruelty spoken in Heaven's name

Be washed with time to keep its fame?

Pre-Chorus

And I cannot silence

The fire inside,

When truth was punished

And mercy denied.

Chorus strong

Oh, Giordano Bruno,

Condemned for what you believed,

A peaceful voice in a fearful age,

Destroyed for refusing deceit.

Where is their sorrow?

Where is their shame?

How can they preach redemption

While denying their blame?

(Verse

2)

Christian teaching speaks of regret,

Of confessing sins we cannot forget,

But who stood trembling to atone

For the flames that swallowed Bruno alone?

They still call him heretic now,

Centuries passed, yet they will not bow,

To say a man with searching eye

Was burned because he dared ask “why.”

And truth stood helpless

Before the throne,

A single thinker

Against the stone.

Chorus strong

Oh, Giordano Bruno,

Condemned for what you believed,

A peaceful voice in a fearful age,

Destroyed for refusing deceit.

Where is their sorrow?

Where is their shame?

How can they preach redemption

While denying their blame?

Bridge

The church imprisoned Giordano Bruno,

The church put Giordano Bruno on trial,

The church humiliated Giordano Bruno,

The church watched Giordano Bruno die.

And he was not the only soul

Lost beneath that righteous role,

How many voices turned to dust

In the name of sacred trust?

(Final Chorus)

Oh, Giordano Bruno,

Your ashes still remain,

A symbol for the silenced hearts

Destroyed by fear and chains.

And still the question echoes

Through cathedrals built in stone:

Can faith demand repentance

Yet never mourn its own?

Outro

So there is no religion in me,

And history still speaks endlessly,

And in the smoke of long-dead flames,

Giordano Bruno calls their names.

(Final Chorus)

Oh, Giordano Bruno,

Your ashes still remain,

A symbol for the silenced hearts

Destroyed by fear and chains.

And still the question echoes

Through cathedrals built in stone:

Can faith demand repentance

Yet never mourn its own?