Summation

You gave us your son
Then let us kill him
They call us sinners
To spite your grand scheme

They took the gold
Then the Imperium
We ride the planet
Your holy taxi

And if we ask
We’re told
We should never ask

Religion
It’s all the Sun
Or the Son
Or the sum of some

All the angels
Pass me by
Like psychopathic
Fireflies
Bleeding wings
Pulling you down

Now I’m told
I talk such crap
Raised on your God
Why are you surprised at that

Religion
It’s all the Sun
Or the Son
Or the sum of some

Pulling us down
Your God
Psychopath

Believe that

© 2010, Mosquitobyte