Beliefs must evolve or face extinction
Shed dogma like snakeskin
No need for confession or astral projection
I survive on the primal instinct within
Even a loving god is still a master
Spare me your fear all these childish superstitions
I've spent decades trying to purge your swill from my system
God is in the mirror, not hiding in the skies
This heathen temple will stand tall until the day that I die

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