Organ grinder's henchmen,
Shaking their coins in time -
"Guild of Mute Assassins
Will convene at a quarter to nine."
Behind the court house,
Atop a scaffold,
Stands a man with a bag for a face -
"You will not have learned,
Until I return,
To give my executioner the chase."

The swinging of its censers,
The silence of its members!
Oh, the Guild of Mute Assassins!
From the places in-between,
That are so seldom seen.
Oh, the Guild of Mute Assassins.

Widow in the furrow with thimbles,
Hasn't seen her face in years,
Kneels into a puddled reflection,
To find it is just as she's feared.
And in the Garden,
The Archangel,
Sword above his head - 
"You will not return,
Until you have learned,
What you've forfeited."

The swinging of its censers,
The silence of its members!
Oh, the Guild of Mute Assassins!
From the places in-between,
That are so seldom seen.
Oh, the Guild of Mute Assassins.

Baby on a threshold with silver,
Breath rises from its lips.
Beam of yellow light from a doorway,
And the figure of a silhouette.
In the cradle,
wood stiletto,
Rattles like a barrow of bones.
Another journeyman,
With passion,
Silently recites the oath.

The swinging of its censers,
The silence of its members!
Oh, the Guild of Mute Assassins!
From the places in-between,
That are so seldom seen.
Oh, the Guild of Mute Assassins.
that are so seldom seen
Oh, the Guild of Mute Assassins.