there’s a disorder in you my friend,
a misdemeanour, a gradual osmosis,
a theft of a person through quiet hypnosis,
you’ve been reshaped and reformed,
you now claim to be reborn,
through a faith so baseless,
you’re forced to confess
thought-crimes that don’t align perfectly
with your masters teaching,
there’s no substance
to the fairytale he’s preaching,
there’s a shroud,
a vale,
years upon years of untold betrayal,
such conditioning needs erasing
forget the fiction you’ve been perusing,
or the children your masters been abusing
I want the facts, give it to me straight,
nothing from ‘the good book’
helps me relate
to the hatred that I’m seeing,
or the anger that I’m feeling,
tell me why I’m watching the injured crawling,
men, woman and children falling,
limbs torn apart by the bombs they’re dropping,
tell me why such violence is
paraded through the streets,
bound and gagged, shackled hands,
dragged along like meat by the feet,
in the name of your ‘GOD’ it all
appears condoned, forced to kneel
then savagely stoned
to death,
whilst rabid animals dance and chant,
you can’t tell me this is ‘GODS’ will,
as they cut off the head
and set fire to the rest
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