Tekster: Insision. Ikon. By Habit.

[Pretext:
In the torn flesh, an abstract emerge... releasing its vile stench to make itself known.
A reminder of the outside, a human stench. A religious stench.
Its dogma, the cyst, infests your daily life. Their yoke and life so compromised.
A guilt so hereditary emphasized, and the cure so obvious. No belief no god.
Still you stand and stare, hiding behind that old mask of God.
Yes, you're part of the problem, accepting tradition. Eyes wide shut as they congregate.
Christians, Muslims and Jews. They see the 'vehemence in those not of the norm', so you get in line... to swallow...]

Vehement, I am
The new law, new line
I transcend, transform, project the heretic
Your useless manifest, fable of a feeble god
(Do you) think you're free on your knees?
Behind that old mask of God
But we ride, vulgar and viral
And you cry, defeated again
If I kneel, I choose my own power
Satan is God, now dominate!
As slaves you are, traditions and habit
Suppressed, eyes wide shut
So compromised
Without even knowing
Hiding behind the face of tradition
Fixed on the new law I am
I dissent...

The faith is fed religious in doctrines
And every time you accept, you inherit the yoke
So compromised your life, your guilt
The guilt of your fathers
Absolute in my reality
Erect, stand tall, full of dignity
Absolute in my own prophecy
Chosen, I build my own identity
To fall out of the norm
They will gather
Have a mind of your own
They will congregate, REMEMBER!!!
You are part of the problem
Accepting traditions
You will kneel by habit...
In fear of what?!

By habit, you'll kneel down
By habit