Where he will return and save them from sin.

They look up to the clouds hoping to witness him say,

That all of his followers are in for the win. 

They open their books filled with words and prophecies,

The way, the truth, and the light in their eyes.

It seperates the good and bad, protects their weak pleas,

Hoping that God will look down and return their cries.

Yet here I sit on my creaky old bed,

Worshipping Gods that don't even exist.

I don't follow the book, its barely even been read,

And still the ropes are still tight, bound at my wrist.

I beleive in the spirits and demons,

An other worldy king who protects us from harm.

But it makes me feel sick like drunken seamans,

With the loud silence not keeping me calm.

People in all pleaces say "pick up the bible,

Or hell will await us in the midst of eternity".

It almost seems judgy, a punishing lible,

The opposite of todays moral modernity.

I believe that we should spread love throughout all,

And I don't need the book for a wishful reason.

If in your heart you know that to walk you must crawl,

Then you will learn on your own that slander is treason.

I don't think that faking will get you very far,

Because God knows it all, can see every thought.

You can look at the sky and wish on a shooting star,

But hatefull hearts and loving actions will get you all caught.

So don't wait for the book to read hearts that are blue,

Because if you love God all you need is your own.

Don't wait for a sign to love all the wind blew,

Because your heart will guide you to your very own throne.