Holy the religious zealot,
kneeling whores and the diseased.
Pray to the wealth of the unknown,
he is a completely silent god,
a rigid glorified demon.
Fuck him, or her, or that.

Clouds above the horizon pass questioning looks,
curious stares and hushed winds,
admit my defeat.
Counting on your religious vigor got me in this
-immaculate conception state-.

The almighty lust drove me here,
dropped me off, made you a believer.
Hitting me with your righteous hand,
that glorified fury made me,
what I am now.

Angels with broken wings saunter my way.
Tasteless, ethereal, things,
they taunt me.
If I would have made do,
I could have been one of them,
Slap happy and drunk on the foolishness of mankind.

My hidden jesus smacks around your steel framed christ,
in a war the lucifer was meant to win,
planning their fire drenched Armageddon in binary.
I take my comic book of the bible,
sit with Adam and Eve under the apple tree.
Petting their snake named Desire,
I make amends.