Lyrics

shadowy figures exalted with incense, feel more like faces on postoffice walls
a young mind can be built, blind trust won't be ceded, until you're sixteen and your friend is a sin
because he don't, know who he is yet, and he feels, too tired to pretend

Jesus, if you are real, these men have butchered your name
and I want to see it, but I can't believe
in good faith

you can't worship a god that you might not believe in, this thing of darkness I recognize mine
a company cover-up, scripture in pieces, can't unite us like a Michael Morse walk-up song
that we sing, all in unison, with a joy, so tangible and real

mysteries, yea I could believe in, but why would they all be for me
these forces they all seem to lead, to separation

words, hearts, hands
parrots forget why they stand