She altered the atmosphere in passing to her deliverance,
The venom of envy pumped to the serpents fangs,
She leans against the swords of this desperate authority,
Proclaims it's all mine it always was; I want it back.
Cities built upon,
Broken Babylons,
Time's technology,
Man's biology.
Nursing the manic callings; divine stress; fundamental flaws,
The infrastructures slow rust to the rapacious rebuilding,
Run the numbers on the crash of this faith based placebo,
You crawl so low to this higher calling you hum the devil's alibi,
And if there be a road which no map can trace the soul of,
Than here we will take our exit and gut our pagans for the plunder,
These soft stories they have no center they are ripe for retelling,
New gods they curry new bibles and new blood for their alters.
Greater heavens await the wings of these devouter angels,
So mine your stomachs growl down to it's acid alphabet,
This is a first son's illusion a serpent on the glass of your ambitions,
But this profane wrath wont weather the divine stasis of his mortal coil,
And the fall that he mates of the sky will wreck his skill for flight,
The sidewalks of paradise will soak and suffer these crash landings,
But the medicine powdered from your bone wont heal the holy,
So we will bait our graven image and go whoring after gods.