Worship Syndrome

In this world of smoke and mirrors, we're all the same, snakes and sinners
Get off your knees and open your eyes, don't let the blind lead the blind or play you part in this charade
Line us up in the deceivers parade
Celebrate false kings and queens and their paper dreams
Everyone wants to be holy, I'd rather be loved
All your greatest fears fall from the sky
For you heaven is promised, but I don't know why
Everyone wants to be holy, I'd rather be loved
All our greatest fears crash through the floor
For us, hell is promised, and that's why I believe no more
I sit with my head in my hands and wonder why this is how it has be
Life goes on for everyone while I'm fucking grieving
This is a dedication, not an empty celebration of kings and queens, paper dreams
This false love and worship is the real tragedy