Since the dawn of civilization
The so-called men of god
Have been lost in their obscurities
Their words would lead to [bad word] the weak to follow
design for tyrants to control and enslave

We subdue not the voice inside us
We only bow down on our prey

Fire rains down from the heavens
Pouring down on those too weak to learn
On [bad word] of the dead religion
Standing tall as the enslaving doctrines burn

To lead the flock astray
Each cult began their game
They created the face of evil and gave and squeeze it
Until it breaks in shards
And under the remains the [bad word] will survive

We are the child who questions sincerely
And in our eyes a mirror framed