[Pretext: In the torn flesh, an abstract emerge... releasing its vile stench to make itself known. A reminder of the outside, a human stench. A religious stench. Its dogma, the cyst, infests your daily life. Their yoke and life so compromised. A guilt so hereditary emphasized, and the cure so obvious. No belief no god. Still you stand and stare, hiding behind that old mask of God. Yes, you're part of the problem, accepting tradition. Eyes wide shut as they congregate. Christians, m**ms and Jews. They see the 'vehemence in those not of the norm', so you get in line... to swallow...] Vehement, I am The new law, new line I transcend, transform, project the heretic Your useless manifest, fable of a feeble god (Do you) think you're free on your knees? Behind that old mask of God But we ride, vulgar and viral And you cry, defeated again If I kneel, I choose my own power Satan is God, now dominate! As slaves you are, traditions and habit Suppressed, eyes wide shut So compromised Without even knowing Hiding behind the face of tradition Fixed on the new law I am I dissent... The faith is fed religious in doctrines And every time you accept, you inherit the yoke So compromised your life, your guilt The guilt of your fathers Absolute in my reality Erect, stand tall, full of dignity Absolute in my own prophecy Chosen, I build my own identity To fall out of the norm They will gather Have a mind of your own They will congregate, REMEMBER!!! You are part of the problem Accepting traditions You will kneel by habit... In fear of what?! By habit, you'll kneel down By habit