I was raised in catholic school,
|
taught to obey that one golden rule
|
That is, He who sits in the Heavens above
|
deserves all your praise, devotion and your love
|
Because he had a son who had died for our sins
|
And with that sacrifice came a sense of contrition
|
That we all seem to feel when weĄŻre down on our knees
|
looking up to die hoping heĄŻll answer all our needs
|
|
But I tend to believe that itĄŻs all for not
|
and when the sun does set, all our souls will rot
|
along with our flesh and our bones and our blood
|
will seep into the earth reconnecting with the mud
|
And I think to myself, what a beautiful lie
|
to waste being devote to what could all turn out to be a lie
|
To be a lie
|
|
Now I do not know, but I have been told
|
If you donĄŻt believe in Him, well then the devil owns your soul
|
But let us just examine whatĄŻs below this land
|
ItĄŻs the story of a man with a pitchfork in his hand
|
Could you honestly believe in such a tall, tall tale
|
Something that sounds so make believe just like the sailor and the whale
|
|
Well I guess that this song has sealed my own fate
|
Lucifer wonĄŻt take me, ainĄŻt crossing through no pearly gates
|
|
But if either one exists well thatĄŻs fine by me
|
I will gladly spend the afterlife waiting in purgatory, purgatory
|
|
-----------------
|
Make Believe
|
City And Colour |