A church is burning, the flames rise higher,
   Like hands that are praying, a-glow in the sky,
   Like hands that are praying the fire is saying
   "You can burn down my churches but I shall be free."
  
   Three hooded men thru the back-roads did creep,
   Torches in their hands while the village lies asleep.
   Down to the church where just hours before,
   Voices were singing and hands were beating and saying,
   I won't be a slave any more.
  
   A church is burning, the flames rise higher,
   Like hands that are praying, a-glow in the sky,
   Like hands that are praying the fire is saying
   "You can burn down my churches but I shall be free."
  
   Three hooded men, their hands lit the spark,
   Then they faded in the night and they vanished in the dark,
   And in the cool light of morning there's nothing that remains,
   But the ashes of a Bible and a can of kerosene.
  
   A church is burning, the flames rise higher,
   Like hands that are praying, a-glow in the sky,
   Like hands that are praying the fire is saying
   "You can burn down my churches but I shall be free."
  
   A church is more than just timber and stone,
   And freedom is a dark road when you're walking it alone,
   But the future is now and it's time to take a stand,
   So the lost bells of freedom can ring out in my land.
  
   A church is burning, the flames rise higher,
   Like hands that are praying, a-glow in the sky,
   Like hands that are praying the fire is saying
   "You can burn down my churches but I shall be free."