Salt of the Land

Bastard people, breed and die Distrusting, disgusting sheep begging for the slaughter Incapable of real thought, can’t see past the ends of your nose Claiming that you know God’s will, a laughable farce at best Your God is not here today He was never here at all All of your efforts are empty You’re still going to die forever No amount of insistence will make him exist No amount of singing or crying out his names There are no beautiful hosts in heaven Oblivion is all you’ll find on the other side So in the end you’re just pretending Getting dressed every week for church Getting high on endorphins, and calling them Jesus Mass psychosis you refer to as the holy ghost