For the record I must say It's sad to see you all pray All pray your lives away When in reality Why should we believe in something we can't see? A mockery, Orchestrating hypocrisy Oh the irony Open up your eyes and There you go pointing your fingers at me you burn it in and out of humanity Now you see those clergy eat better then you and me They tour amongst the shores with stouthearted feet Trade stigma, ad harlots Golden letters, leather-bound looks Fight with fire and throwing stones our world sheds When our rivers run red We'll never know where we'll go 'Til there's a crutch to call home We'll never know...