Sick Religion

Knees bent, arms straight do as I say,
You'll never get to Heaven 'less you dress a certain way,
Stop that, watch this, stand up straight,
The devil knows you're reppin' yes your flesh will burn in flames.
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I got a friend who never used to believe in god,
We'd smoke weed in the evening and speak a lot
And get lean at a seanic spot, what a dream but he'd preach
How its weak, and we need to stop,

Cause he see's it as being lost, but I could still smoke pot,
Be easy and keep a job, but just deeply perceived that the demon wants,
A little piece of our species we need to squash. I disagree and nod,
Cause isn't Jesus god? what Christians seek, it all seems to clock,

My whole feelings of whether I believe or not,
I want reason to not what the preachers got,
I want freedom, my dreaming is seeming blocked, but he's just odd
Screaming steeple tops, hows its easy to sneak off and be your boss,

But when our breathing stops we'd all see the cost, but in a logical
Sense it seems fake and sussed, to make a fuss and give away your
Faith and trust, plus I rate, laught, take drugs, hate and cuss,
And chase more fucking ladies that Satan does, I'm not aiming for

Space in the place above, its just pens to my paper as brains
Discuss in ways that just, make my state of trust flake to dust,
Now my vision is a hazy fuzz, see josh ain't wasted, he's saving bucks
Claims this way is his way of waking up, a nature rush,

Much like the same as drugs, that I've blatantly taken, its strange
As fuck, so I patiently wait on my atheist hut, feeling flaky as fuck
Thinking maybe its luck, is my mate going crazy or making it up,
I'm pacing with Satan and raising my trust.