Heretic Dreams

Myths are flowers of imagination
They grow freely fed by mystery
Watered by our hopes and faith in metaphor
Dressed up in the truth
They beautifully adorn
Gardens of our minds reborn
Resurrected from the past we left behind

Religion
Just like superstition
Is the weed… that strangles reason

Blood is beauty flowing from the veins
Of inspiration to our hearts
Beating as our dreams and real life collide
Decorated in our sins
We shed our skins strengthen our lungs
Breathe and kill the demons with the magic of our tongues

Religion
Just like superstition
Is the weed… that strangles reason

The image of the lord has been replaced
By a mirror and the Devil's face
A virtuous heretic shall be saved
Before a wicked Christian preys

Religion
Just like superstition
Is the weed… that strangles reason
Religion
Just like superstition
Is the weed… that strangles reason