A Foothill Lies On the Backside of the Mountain That Looms Before Us
It is here that they Will attempt to turn you Espouse fictional tales And claim them as evidence Of a higher being's callings They want you to see as they see And they want you to give Everything A penance to pay a debt unknown They want you to even forsake Your own blood To dry a river And make it flow once more With flesh upon tears All for something intangible One who claims perfection When perfection's never to be had They want you to kill And be stark raving mad In a place that needs not Perfection of that of a False architect
And in your mind You will find That all the answers Lie inside yourself How hard could it be To see that Our moral institutions Rely not in false texts But within our own veins And one day Perhaps we can accept That these delusions Are quite unnecessary And the next step May be the last To transcendance
Release Yourself From these Shackles Be bound No more Release Release Release Release