You're no saint
Damning bodies fleeting of souls
Follow brainless teachings of old

In hopes of owning masses
Spitting venom, calling it "faith"
For twisted, sick ideals

Their book becomes a crutch and a shield
Their theory in the role of a sword
How dare you point the finger

You got nothing on me, and you, sir,
Are no !@#$ saint
You're no saint

The fallen always victims to tease
You hide with false security
Prepared for your deception

Some will never believe
The tricks you're crawling through
Again the fates have proven it wrong

Irony has finished the job
In my time or another
Your entire plan of control

Will only bring you hell
Through history it has always shown
Your time to own up

Is right $#&@ing now
Captured, convinced as a child
That way, you never outgrow it

Demand your new birth in freedom
Their book becomes a crutch and a shield
Their theory in the role of a sword

How dare you point the finger
You got nothing on me, and you, sir,
Are no !@#$ saint

You're no saint