Nighttime calling to the underworld, sleep I must get to regenerate; don't think I'm weak, I must get some dreams. Don't worry ‘bout the screaming, I'm just being killed; in dreams like a mania my blood is the saint. Jesus hacked me with a bloody spear, he hates me because, I know he faked. Back then in Golgotha he died like a wimp just to reborn by his father in sky. He kissed his birdie a goodnight kiss, but forgot to set up the alarm for the dead. When the souls of the christians lied in their coffins still, in hope to see god, they turned into dust. Faith is like blasphemy, when the stakes are high; live your life, and forget the sky.
