The book is truth, yet so blind,

One million hands doth this book bind.

It may to the lost bring great order,

But does this give Him the right to get away with murder?

 

Rooted in their banks, grown to know,

Producing the controllable John or Jane Doe.

This can't be, can't you see?

To live free one must breathe,

retrieve yourself.

 

Unplugged, disconnected, death to chains,

Say what we must to releave the pain.

Lies and lies till you break down and cry,

Decline the natural high 'till your days run dry.

Rely on yourself.

 

Simply a man with mind, yet architect is he dubbed.

People get high on all different types of drugs when, all you need is love.

They ride crusades to relieve the disorder,

Yet this means He can get away with murder?

 

Power and greed, they seem to have the need,

They run and chase this till the day their deceased.

I may stray somewhat in dissarray, but to their dismay,

At the end of the day i still may lead them to melee.

never delay yourself

 

For what is life without reason?

Not to live with guilt and treason.

they scrape and pry for every quarter,

Not watching as He gets away with murder