Tell me what you believe
That hysteria is written by men who are paid to believe
What their leaders were told
Like the bravery of fighting a war by remote control.
We worshipped the pillars of greed
and the silent majority shuffled along with muted dissent
As white collar criminals gambled their empires away.
But you're got blood on your hands.
But it's not a question of faith
There's a man with a cross in his hands
and a darkness that burns through his soul
If your god does exist
Then you'll be the first to burn.