The Poster Boys - festivals of ATONEMENT

So you want control
Well you've got to sell your soul
I can show you how
Is it possible to learn this power
And it goes like
And it goes like like like this
And goes like like like
Uh uh, uh uh
Can you save your life by your own hand
Some call me a prophet, others a mad man
To some, I'm a comrade, others a bad friend
Forget about the optics, this is my last stand
Speaking of God in the past tense
The assassins, do we laugh at committing murder
And somehow we bear to dance in the mirror
Feelin' ourselves, and yet remain inferior
Reach for divinity, the eye gets wearier
Here we are, fallin' asleep to supersede into a dream world
Drink up the sea, and be the leaders of the free world
Do you believe in anything outside of these words
Now you got me thinkin' me neither
I've taken all I need
So I killed him in his sleep
You know the tragedy
Now I'm the only one who can save me
But this is my profession
What I say that I believe and what I do to bring the bread in
When the truth becomes a dead end
I become the thing itself and even God is dead then
I don't know what that means
Maybe I'm a fool even goin' that deep
Got me feelin' low now that's what I get
Time begins to slow down as I drift
Into the abyss with intent to appreciate it
I'm just a bit inebriated
I'm thinkin' and sinkin' to worlds uncharted
Away from all suns with burning hearts in
Our chests, the darkness falling
Perceive the light of a further calling
Affirming life where the worm was gnawing
A word of warning
Enough metaphors, they'll infer you're stalling
I've taken all I need
So I killed him in his sleep
You know the tragedy
Now I'm the only one who can save me
I am the arbiter, giver and taker of power
I hold the keys
Can you take a life and become it
I am the author and keeper of peace and destruction
I am the king
Can you save your life by your own hand
I know I beat around the bush too long
Readin' all these books too long
Thinkin' maybe I been doin' what I should too long
And it don't feel right but it don't look wrong
Cause I ain't really rockin' with ascetics
But it's sure as hell a popular aesthetic
With people who are sure of hell, thought I'd go to heaven
But then every time I'm there I gotta act like I regret it
Does it even make sense
Feelin' like it doesn't even make sense
Does what I'm sayin' even make sense
That if I kill God then I must be him
And I don't see another way out
Who will bring the offering
Broken people I don't wanna let down
Who will be the sacrifice
For our souls, who atones
Who will lay beneath the knife
Murder of all muderers
Who will wipe this blood off of you
What water is there for you to clean yourself
What festivals of atonement
What sacred games will you have to invent
Must you not become a god yourself simply to appear worthy of this

Written by:
Andrew McLeod, James Upshaw

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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