We, the emperors, have no clothes
Anyone who tells you what sin is doesn't know
Anyone who puts themselves up above you
Anyone who finds a "godly" reason not to love you
For we are the facilitators of our own demise
Hell is not so much other people but what we do with them inside our minds
And holy wars are fought every day on city streets
And in the country and the suburbs whenever strangers meet
But I was raised up with the promise that God loves me and you
So when I don't know what I believe, I still believe that much is true
No comments:
Post a Comment