the sins of the past you forget
as the pastor burns from the pulpit
walk down the aisle without falter
lay your prayers down before the alter
with the belief you will not find what you seek
a salvation birthed from the hearts of the weak
we all see the sins, but do we see the sinner
when the lines of blessed and the damned grow thinner
our vision is blurred with perfection in our eyes
but with our hearts full of rejection, the hope dies
the hope for truth is masked by the facade
burn at pulpit in the hands of an outraged god
