They say God made you
They say God takes you away
Cute bedtime story
Because,
When you're butchered for praying to the right god in the wrong street
And your god can't do shit to save the life of the fate he had himself written
Either your god is a sore-ass limp-dick loser who just can't protect you from his own kind,
Or your god’s busy jerking off in his divine bed of feathers plucked off fallen angels
While another god’s hitmen-on-hire rip your limbs apart from your existence
Also,
If death is god's plan as much as life is
Why cry your lungs out in tears of blood
Why call killing in the name of religion injustice
Why not call it divine intervention
Pick your poison
Either way, your Holy Daddy’s not exactly Father of the Year
Maybe, just maybe
God isn’t running the show at all
Or even better
God doesn't fucking exist
Maybe religion’s just the oldest fucking excuse
For people who can't admit
They kill because killing feels good
"I killed for my God"
Sounds so much nobler
Than "I kill because blood on my hands makes my dick feel alive"
Every prayer book’s a hit list with a different font
Every faith is a cartel
Manufacturing martyrs and mass murderers
While issuing divine clearance passports to them
And you
You’re either the hunter or the hunted; the next chosen one to do god's dirty laundry or the next sacrifice
Because if there's one thing we know for sure it is this that
God needs death to stay in business
And you dumb motherfuckers keep signing up for it thinking you’re saints,
When you’re nothing but slaves at god's slaughterhouse
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