Pacing in front of your meek congregation
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Licking your lips in lofty oration
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You sharpen your claws, enforcing the laws
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And the lies of eternal salvation
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To keep them in line while you do your deceiving
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You threaten the souls of the blind and believing
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The Lord will forgive, if, as long as they live
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They spend their days guilty and grieving
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Silver crosses, your drying palm
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Tokens of the trade
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For giving them their sins, you calm
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Souls upon which you've preyed
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You swing across and hypnotize
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To punctuate your spell
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With the cross you tease and dot their eyes
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And sentence them to hell
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Obsessed with controlling how others should be
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You spread the disease of the Heavenly Three
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Your book is your blade in this selfish crusade
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And you're pointing its pages at me
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You make up the rules and happily brandish the list
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Forbidding your people the pleasures by which they exist
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Confessing the sins of their bodies' natural behavior
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They punish themselves in the name of your saccharine savior
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Heavenly Scared So
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| Bubblemath |
