The preacher told me about creation
The sermon ached, ached of a lie, not a blessing man
Only words from human mouths
only agendas sculpted into the dogma
A little mystery mixed with philosophy
a few squirts of psychology and pop culture
Rituals that would cleanse us
Yet how it is empty without the truth
And surely the truth should be our endless journey's destination
And if evolution is ignored in the name of traditional belief
In a place where people crave the modern
It's not the people's whim but a god trend through us
You who live in the past counting spirits want reins on progress
Preach me lies and deliver your version of god like it was ever-true
You are just decorating the Christmas tree
telling me they should all be glittered like that
That you could count the spirits and steer us right
Who is the proud, when you claim to know the divine secrets of the universe
Got yourself a book a voice and an opinion
Go ahead sir, describe heaven
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