Myths are flowers of imagination
They grow freely fed by mystery
Watered by our hopes and faith in metaphor
Dressed up in the truth they beautifully adorn
Gardens of our minds reborn
Resurrected from the past we left behind
Religion…Just like superstition
Is the weed that strangles reason
Blood is beauty flowing from the veins
Of inspiration to our hearts
Beating as our dreams and real life collide
Decorated in our sins we shed our skins, strengthen our lungs
Breathe and k** the demons with the magic of our tongues
Religion…Just like superstition
Is the weed that strangles reason
The image of the lord has been replaced
By a mirror and the Devil’s face
A virtuous heretic shall be saved
Before a wicked Christian preys
Religion…Just like superstition
Is the weed that strangles reason
Religion…Just like superstition
Is the weed that strangles reason