Storm the temple!
Crush the church!
Theres a god on the loose!
1000 armies of mortal souls,
legions upon legions of heretic prose!
They dress in black and draw their stars,
They forsake themselves, warriors of Mars!
Celestine Prophecies that govern our thought,
Government Propaganda, that tell us that we ought
to give up hope, save money in a jar,
we never know, where some day far,
along our destiny, we'll need the cash,
how many piggy banks, will you bash?
And now that the God, is nice and dead,
lets burn up the future, and the streets run red,
with blood and fear, and don't forget to lie,
because no matter what, mortal gods never die.

-- Paul Unterberg

It was under a tree,
in the park,
that I sat, and watche.
They gathered and talked,
they danced, and fought,
and it was all a part of a plan,
the illusion of reality.

There we were, all in black,
in one place, bidding the time.
All had our place, our part of it,
those who knew what was taking place,
they kept silent.
We all waited, for some sign,
and then it rained.

And the heavens opened,
and poured their souls to us.
I starred into the sky,
to the dark clouds,
into the midnight of a storm.

The sun came, the sun went.
The stars flashed, and the moon rose.
And in the end, they all vanished.
The night became the day,
and I saw dawn's fingers on the horizon.

And under my tree I stood,
I spread my arms,
and my eyes peered into the brihgt sun.
The rays reached out,
past the shadows,
into my soul.
The star took me in,
I became one with dawn,
and I was united with them all.
We were back,
once again a part of the illusion of reality.

-- Paul Unterberg