God-sent, well-spoken, a homophobe in sheep's clothing.
You're young at heart but one day cancer will tear you apart.
A guilty conscience full of rage, what do you say.
So go and preach these lies, in manic praise and lustful ways.
No gods no masters.
How did the house of god raise such a fucking bastard.
And I'm thankful for everything, so hide behind the cross.
In the name of god, even though it doesn't mean shit.
There's a belt burn on my neck and I've got a stomach full of regrets.
This world has left me with nothing unsaid, honestly I'd rather be fucking dead.
20 years down and Prozac born, a pill-fed bastard in a rotting hole.
A disorder oh so bleak, it burns to the core.
Consume my faith.
This manic thought, while it lingers on, I'm spitting teeth and broken words.
This world is a cancer and I'm here to burn, tear me down bone and skin.
No gods follow me.
This is the great grief.
Fuck them and fuck what they think, they live in misery.
They live to burden me.

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