I am not a prophet or a teacher
I am a failure of God
Standing in a circle of my brothers
Their fangs out

Every thing I had I gave to you
Every time I tried I would lose
Its hard not to shake with a gun in your mouth

Every time I try I hear my mother's voice
And see my mothers eyes
But when hers close
I'm scared so will mine
You are no brothers

Filing out of the church of Cain
Like a thousand foot pious snake
Hiding its sins deep in its stomach
Digesting them one at a time

And your voice is a sounding trumpet
Announcing the mountains that you've moved
But love is the farthest thing from you