Christianity, pimping at its finest.

Got at least a billion screaming out your highness.

Have a built-in GPS, but you rather walk in blindness.

I hope I reach one when they find this.

Was born with the Light, so your darkness doesn’t faze me,

but you can continue to call me crazy.

Refuse to be your infant or baby.

I don’t need so-called mercy and grace; that made me lazy.

But when I found out who I was, my last name became grace and first, amazing.

So, Christianity, bye-bye; I want you no more.

I’m so sorry I have to get off this floor.

Sorry my life I choose to restore.

Neurotic thinking is no longer my chore.

Done with placing my fate in your allegorical books

and catchy hooks,

your ambiguous lines

toying with my mind.

Done with letting you sell me back to me.

’Cause if I just review the facts, my Light made you see.

But somewhere along the way I accepted your trickery,

believed in you and all your buffoonery.

You celebrate pagan holidays

but have the audacity to get mad at someone smoking haze.

Poison is poison no matter what well it flows from.

Dead meat is dead meat no matter who holds the chum.

The trigger-man is the trigger-man no matter who holds the gun.

Lead ’em all to the slaughter-house and pick ’em off one by one.

Darkness so powerful it can make you believe.

But o ye, truth seekers, I will try to not do you like they did me—

circumcise you and make you suck Christianity’s penis;

start a male orgy and make her clean it;

tell you the Trinity is three men;

and there is no voice for women.

How is this, and women bring forth life?

Just a touch from a woman can bring down strife.

Barren or nonbarren, her body is the universe.

If she doesn’t speak life, you feel as if life is a curse.

So how can you say the Trinity consists of three three-legs issuing seed,

while women may bear children and once a month bleed?

Born with the Light.