You don't know GodSo don't PlayOr Act the part And "Save the day"To hold your placeTaking a staircase of bodies To feel His GraceA women has her sayYou arn't her GodSo down withYour Gun
"Come home, it's time to come home"I hear you as I try to sleepI get to thinking what home you speak ofyour life is black news print on yellowed papercrinkled up
Religion is a drugHard Hit
We are on theverge of colourone that the othercan not see.
Discipline knows the secrets of acceptance.You have to draw a line at pain.
Can't take a breathHands in the airWhat is pretend to youWhat isn't there The World holding stillwaiting for you torelease
Posters of the lost Seen by the sex trafficked who walkThe streets - They are forcedTo fuck.