March Of The Atheists

Well I can accept that you have your faith

So you must accept that I have none

You chase your god into your grave

I'll die alone when my days are done

All these fabulous beasts that you strike down

All this beautiful land that you claim to command

And all these wars in the name of a book

There's god in your heart but there's blood on your hands

So where are you fires on hell

So where now your golden gates

I see no angels, no heaven on high

I hear no marching of your saints

Go placidly amongst the noise and haste

Well, I know your churches are a sight to behold

And I know your stories as good as any man

I know we all have our crosses to bear

But I'll waste none of my time in desperate prayer

I've rung the bells of the Mont St. Michel

But me and the saviour were never that close

I've called into the night with no hope of reply

But I've seen the holes in the holy ghost

So where now, your peace to all men

So where now, your undeniable proof

Where is it written, in paper or stone

An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth