But the heat within still stings at the nerves
Through a loss of faith
And the all-encompassing rage

Red brick and brimstone
does not make the church alone
It is filled with people who wish to atone

But how many others with nothing to atone for
Gather in fear around the door
Terrified of old legends and lore

Old lore, which used to be jovial, is now turned grave
And the grave legends that taught us to behave
Are drowned in the cities need to rave

It all gets twisted, our morals concave
It's the difference between a human and a tombstone to engrave
A church that thinks of a god is a memorial grave
A church that thinks not of people is an empty conclave
A cult to a rumor, a place to deprave