From the album Necropolis
[Lyrics : Josh Hillier] [Songwriting : Jack Higgs, Josh Hillier, Chris Homer]
Of what the people would read, the prophecies spoken to all who believed them for thousands of years.
Or so the testament had been anticipated, the scripture descended through time but through time was distorted.
The people chose what to believe,
Some through false hope and others through greed.
The truth was contorted, dissected askew,
Till condescending beliefs were all gradually split.
Cast by separate inclination, History shifts.
This was the alteration, which had effected the world,
and sent all human life spiralling into eternal oblivion.
What if your saviour was never conceived?
Still born and dead the messiah was never more,
Stripped of a King and postpone the apocalypse,
So that your had idol never existed.
At first to the naked eye it was perceived as a blessing,
A conduct of peace and forgiveness and taught morals of good and evil.
The salt of the earth.
Through time mankind dispersed with different beliefs,
sending humanity into divisions of false hope, and aimless worship.
Through causing conflict to those who oppose of their human nature.
Wars were conceived and battles were fought all for nothing.
The sovereign of global regulation
continues to prevail and subdivide our existence
into assorted congregation, we are too late to assist,
the affliction on the absentminded remains immutable.
All we can do is watch civilisation perish eternally.
As time continues,
these unrelenting cults persist
their anarchy with manipulation.
Captivation of the nation,
dominating their vulnerable minds.
Taking advantage of the innocent,
spreading illusive propaganda for these, cults of abandonment.
Churches selling their God for currency,
tyrants of greed, power perceived on their throne.
You remain oblivious funding your way to what you, think is a reserved spot in the afterlife.
Delusion spreads as all hope is lost, no conclusion to this iso-chronism.
Each word in stone, beyond ones control.
Creating the world from the ashes, but being birthed from the coals.
Like vultures, tearing the flesh from their bones.
Your lore was fabricated not imprinted in stone.
Of years of bloodlust and maliciousness done.
These incantations for gods, bastard son.
The cause of war and killing, the silent parasite.
The people chose what to believe some through false hope and others through greed.
The truth was contorted, dissected askew, till cons ending beliefs were all gradually split.
Their gods mocked the very root of their lives.
Raptured, those who shunned god had survived.