Hush,
Just shut up,
Everyone’s talking
So god damned much.
No, I don’t care,
What your old book says,
It doesn’t touch me,
It never did.
I’m not a christian,
I’m not a saint,
I’ve done so many wrong things,
That it’d make a sane person scream.
Your stigmas need breaking,
Your lies need reshaping,
God made me and you?
C’mon get a clue.
He never cared,
Neither do I,
He was never there,
Does that make me a god?
Would you worship me?
Would you slice your wrists,
If that was my decree?
If I had my own book of lies,
Could I be a god that was alive?
Or would I have to die?
But martyrdom is getting old,
And there are more souls to be sold.
So play your part as laminated sheep,
And watch as the old gods viciously weep.
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