|
A wounded world
An absent creator
Empty prayers
Fly through the air
Like burning paper
There's a monster
In the garden
You call him God.
There's a monster
In the garden
Eating you alive.
The only religion I know
Is dripping from my pen.
The only religion I know
Is my lips kissing her skin
Out of the darkness
Wolves will come.
Out of the dark
The wolves will come.
God is a gun
And the bullets are free
God is a gun
And it's targeting me
God is a gun
And the bullets are free
God is a gun
And it's on a shooting spree
|
|
