What if reality was nothing more
nothing sure, nothing pure,
than our intepretation,
our imagination, our fascination?
What if the fanatic and the manic
seize the civilization, breed disease
of the mind through-out man-kind
and sink our society like the titanic?
What if you sing a song, to right a wrong,
but you sang and sung until you're numb,
defeated and bested, you're beaten and tested
but no wrong was right, no victory just a fight?
What if God was real and He made you feel,
you trust the bible over your wondrous will,
though the babble o' bible could be corrupted by
sinful lies Satan's spies speaking unholy ills?
What if this all powerful, all wonderful, all knowing,
and seed-sowing gracious God of green fingers
was planting lies among us, after all the greatest Evil
would try to rise above us, before we fall like a fool?
What if the bible strictly wasn't pick and choose,
no work on the sabbath in my blue suede shoes,
but to own a slave is savoury, that a life is property
and a strife lasting two days is 'handled properly'?
What if following God wasn't the only option,
if there was a caption, from the captain to greet
saying live on your knees, or die on your feet
'cos any other side is torturous when infinite?
What if God was a myth told from weaver to blacksmith,
and with the fifth pith the apple became a granny smith,
and you have faith in a wraith that isn't watching over you
you deny observation and excuse this citation:
You tell the nation of creation as a filtration of your fixation
in the relation of salvation via declaration to ensure divination
for your relocation via elevation and by now the impregnation of
the nation with your false fixation has made an infiltration as truth?
What if every voice that is vocally preaching and praying
that is trying to to be kind, passing idea from mind to mind,
is actually a part of the greatest crime against mankind
by telling us to ignore insight and be lined behind the blind?
