Where is your grief? - The world, pretention.
Who is you God? - Your Self. Dementia.
You only care
to get your fare
Your skin pores bleed
with rotten greed
Believers ask you just one thing:
"Why don't you praise Almighty King?"
You're tired today,
your fate is fray
and you'll pretend
until the end
This cauldron world is place to fight
and you move on. Where is your light?
Distorted faith,
deceiver face.
Your god is dead,
your god's your Self.
