Some of you took to the old gods for comfort
When we killed off the ones you knew first
Some of you worship the comfort of things
That can only be bought with a purse
Some of you worship the drugs you grew up on
Though they weren't that strong to begin
Some people live in fear of the past
And wish they knew how to sin
And some of you wish you had something to lean on
Because you're scared your self's not enough
Some of you make up excuses and reasons
For your bluster and why you act tough
You worship the colors that bled you dry
Some of you still bow down and pray
To the pity potty patriot lies
Some of you still believe in the tales
Of these wars we have fictionalized
Some of us think we're much better people
If we glorify all our battles for gold
Always ignore that our yearning for freedom
Is the emptiness that makes us bold
You worship the drugs you think got you high
You worship egos that rob you of breath
You worship the colors that bled you dry
You worship nothings to sublimate death
Some of you worship long-gone people and rules
You're convinced by what they wrote before
Some of you worship the age of kings
You want dungeons for ever and more
You worship egos that rob you of breath
Some of you adopted the meaning of others
As easier than developing your own
You worship the memories, infantile, childish:
You're soft, and you are sold
You worship nothings to sublimate death
Some of you wish you had something at least
That you could worship and feed
While some of you are sick of this
Nonsense leaving no room to breathe
You worship the memories,
Infantile, childish:
You're soft,
And you are
