Sparkatale

You look on the world with a cold stare.

You're saints in your prayers

But what could prayers every do.

You burn those who seek the truth.

You think I'm lesser than you.

We've got our crosses to bare

So pick up your damn share.

Take bread from the poor

And give penance to the grave.

You claim that your god will save

Yet you're the first to cast the stone

And those who step out of line.

I see you throw them to the lions.

Yes, your hands are always clean 

When you wash them of these deeds.

My eyes have been opened wide.

I see straight through all your goddamn lies.

I know you'd sell my soul.

What's your price?

Thirty pieces.

Here I am,

Wide awake

In disillusionment.