By America is dead
long wander fools
from fear to dread
and back again
Come shed the skin
of holy hates predated
by our sins
We’ve loosed the dragons from their pens
those sweaty thieves
up in their lofts
who tell the congregation they’ve been saved
have lied
The savior doesn’t want your savings
Go back to pleasing mammon all the way
I know it’s sad, I see your manic waving
But all is lost, go back to digging your own grave
