Praise to the man who giveth his coin
God needs your dollar but he doesn't need sense
Men of the cloth come to take it away while
The poor on the street die and wither astray
Wealth accumulated, false charity
Enlightenment sure doesn't come cheap
There's a taste in my mouth that i cannot ignore
The gilded edges of a book which is rotten to the core
Do you wanna help me hear the word?
Or do you wanna help me find my wallet?
Do you wanna help us find the lord?
Or should we just fatten your pockets?
Power is your goal and your machinations grand
Would a loving god want that gun in your hand?
Deception, misdirection are the tools of your trade
But your erections are reflections of a black soul stain
Offensive luxuries
Aggressive policy
Regressive fallacy
Incomprehensive theocracy
Do you wanna help me hear the word?
Or do you wanna help me find my wallet?
Do you wanna help us find the lord?
Or should we just fatten your pocket?
Your book of scripture
A broken structure
It's all just fantasy
Full of hypocrisy
Blasphemy's not just an obsession
It's become my chosen form of profession
Church in power, there's no room for progression
Heresy, the last form of expression
My ears are never gonna hear your lies
Your hands will never reach my pocket
Your god is never gonna cloud my mine
I'd burn it all down to stop it
Burn it down