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God may be dead but he still rules the world.

The crown is a faded star,

Thorns adorned the forehead of fallacy

And still he bleeds from afar.

Now proclaim your faith

The tomb is empty and so is your heart.

The archetype survives while the author dies,

Manuscript upon manuscript of ancient lies.

This is all that is true: the holy ghost forever lost in purgatory.

The books of Christ burning on the flames of redemption and progression...

I refuse to live in a world where faith overrides reason,

Where lives are taken in blatant superstition.

How can you be so fucking weak and blind?

In death there is no forward;

A return to the natural cycles that govern our now:

Complete freedom of god, complete freedom of being.