Album: Boston Massacre Comp
Reject the stuff you're taught
Bored more than not
So what? They've got a crutch
It's nothing you could ever touch
Don't look
Don't look onto your lawn
There's a billboard built for God
You won't be saved if what you crave are god-fearing minds
So you'll be a slave until the grave to terms the church defines
If all you want is just your own set of rules
Never nurse a guilty conscience for a bunch of fools