Holy blood, a gift of overwhelming grace, only for those who abase themselves and kneel at your command. One nation under fools who've forgotten how to stand. You're crawling in a circle, chained inside since birth. Fall inwards from this point? You'll never reach the earth. There's nothing at the center: no god, no soul. A blind, voiceless mouth, opening to the sky at random. Suck down the shit nourishment you sought from above. Your father's house has many rooms, but no room there for me. When I stand outside the walls, your iron gates seem weak. Give me bread and coin, and lock the door behind, focused inward on the divine. Stay in that circle till you rot. Standing at this height, no miracle of mind, but a circle made of lies, where the deaf entrap the blind. There's nothing at the center.