And the world spreads its legs

For another God

But yet the new Lord hesitates

Before fucking the world,

Making himself known first

Is his devised plan,

Leading his many devoted followers

To his damned punch bowl

One by one they drop like

Flies in insecticide.

He thinks he won, but now

With no followers, he dies,

Who will be next, and what

Have they designed?

They may try and try all they want

But I wont fall for their hoaxes,

Yeah right, YOU ARE MAJESTIC

YOU ARE DEVINE

WE SHOULD ALL PRAY ON YOUR

HOLY SHRINE

You are but a leech extracting

The feeble minded.

My God is my soul, I exist though my soul

So go back to your retreat, succomb

To your hole, and quit bothering me

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