TEXT BOOK CASE
© Electric Babylon Music Author: M.M.
It’s easy to see where history got its start, there seems to be an
eagerness for ruin deep in mankind's heart, the aftertaste of belief still
flavors everything you swallow, and your breath is desperate and your
life’s a game show, but it’s deeper than the shallow rim of some
broken pilot's trust, and it seems as though the river is sucking the sea
back to its source, I seen the peasants hungry for blood and blame it
on the farmers lust, we talk and walk about where we’re going while
nowhere shapes it’s course.
God is a disease we are dying from, we just can’t let go of our kingdom
come, innocence and guilt at the mercy of the victim’s blame, but you
cant judge the crime without the killer’s claim.
With all the honesty of the salvation of a hypocrite, we always take a
stand when we probably should just sit, and the sins of the fathers
become the merits of the sons, and one good slogan kills more people
than a thousand guns, but if you look real close everything has nothing
tucked up inside, and thats the fate of every absolute value we cherish,
but stupidity makes such good sense to us all, by the words we preach
we shall also perish.
God is a disease we are dying from, we’ll all be refugees from kingdom
come, when the revolution’s over and the point is moot, we’ll just cut
down the flowers without pulling up the root.
The world accidentally created man, and man recreated the world in his
image, so he would always have an excuse for hate and greed, and
then according to the master plan, everyone can die by his own sword,
till we’ve beaten desire to its pulp of pure need.
God is a disease we are dying from, but the beauty of the parts defies
the sum, so we wont die we’ll just live forever dying, and the cure
wont heal we’ll just die forever trying.