No God Machine

You've been gone, too long, a quick kill for the new two-dollar bill.

A bad boy, a new toy, a big gun 'till I buy me a bigger one.

Are you acceptable… cultured, respectable?

This seed, will breed, and leave you stinking like a dead man.

Some say, we may, be here when the King comes back again.

I breathe, concrete, she sticks in my skin like a honeybee.

This faith infallible, our vanity palpable…

You know, it grows, it's sleeping underneath your bed, man.

That's it, I quit, no rest in the bed of a hypocrite.

When I, subside, find me in the hands of “The Nazarene”.

I keep it all close to me, misery loves company, so...

I keep it all close to me… You won't find me stinking like a dead man.

CHORUS:

I want to feed it a social disease.

Wake up, wake up, to the new god machine.

I want to feed it a social disease.

Wake up, wake up, you're the new god machine.

I want to feed it. I want to feed it.

Wake up. Wake up. You're the new god machine