Christ

I’m thinking on it
I’m tripping on it
I’m tricking on it
Thinking on it
Tripping on it
Tricking on it

Smaller, smaller
Altar, altar

Altar, before the altar, our design to make us smaller, smaller
Built the state for the “author”, to build him taller
To Crush

Christ,
Made from stick and brim we made you for order, order
You’re nailed to a cross father, your honour, my proper
Unfit for slaughter

Christ,
I could have kept on winning, like a sinner to the minute just
Right
Should I have left it thinning? Or hit it ’till it’s missing?
Was I a slave to the trimmed limit or an edge for the system a precautionary allegiance are you secure in your shiftings what are
MINE

Christ,
What do you want from me?
Another song to sing?
Another wrong to bring in?
Christ
No holds barred I see
Scathing me relentlessly
Gunnin’ for a change to take me
Out

Mmph,
Think, trip, trick you’re a good liar but by far not the best
Let it be known, there is nothing else, I only miss the dead

Christ,
I left it sifting, it was poison in the rifting’s
Knife
Did I offer my submission? Had I bowed to the religion?
A mere murder of the mimic are you sound in your exhibit and your delusion of a victim have you tamed your resistance is your heresy independent on the birth of sacreligion scribing the inscription from the blood of your subjacents the marks and who have made him are deplorably heathen
Mmph

Christ,
What do you want from me?
Another song to sing?
Another wrong to bring in?
Christ
No holds barred I see
Scathing me relentlessly
Gunnin’ for a change to take me
Out

A mans strength is like a bullet – it’s all down to the number of them
But isolation does not ice-cement abuse
Utilisation of the minimisation is your own way out

And we can keep god dead and we can be godless
We will feel heaven sent and free we will be lawless
We will never again belong to a man – our emancipation is our solace