viernes, 17 de mayo de 2013

Sculpt a monument of the now
A servant to no wraith
To no master
I will serve only my will
At my table there's no place for your rituals of grace
I will drink to myself for I know there's nothing else
Words of faith reflect your fear
Thinly veiled but far too clear
And if my truth shatters yours then be baptized in it's flame