My debts are still unpaid to feudal lords   My educators got their just rewards   I walked a tightrope and I swallowed swords   To free my bones from their catacombs      I tried to call you but you weren't there   The softest pillow won't replace your hair   I cracked my knuckles with a wooden chair   To force my fingers free of the telephone      And though I spent a summer screwing you in effigy   Pretending it was you there that was lying next to me   My heart is in your hands and your thoughts are with him, you see   And I hope God can forgive me      And I can feel it in my jangling joints   This is the hour that he will anoint   A new religion free of reference points   As such its much more honorable      But when you're gone I sing the same old songs   I close my eyes and clap my sweaty palms   And in my heart I feel a holy calm   Because I know it makes you miserable      And though the pigments of your eyes are slowly wiped off of the slate   And the painting you're a part of starts to crack and disintegrate   I could hold you in my arms but what's a painting for a mate   Just some ancient infant's doodles disguised as something great   And I hope God can forgive me      And there's a hole inside my chest   Filled with what others think is best   And I try not to pay it any mind   But no bells and whistles could redeem me   No sorry statue could completely   Compensate for all the things I've left behind      And when judgment day comes you will beg for immunity   For harboring hate in God's gated community   The texts that they taught you to bark on command   Will all crumble to pieces at the touch of your hand   And the skies will break open and a light will shine down   And the almighty God's sacred soul will surround   But when you kneel you will feel all his fury and wrath   For he knows by your clothes of those stones that you've thrown unatoned at my path      You bring your bible to my lips and have me kiss each new edition   But why must I sacrifice my spit to validate all your convictions?   You can find some other book, you can find somebody new   And take them to your coffin just like King Tutankhamen   But really, what good would that do?