Watch me dis the tradition
You’ve held to so long.
Your tightly clenched fists are missing
The point, though tradition’s not wrong.
Wrap yourself around the pointless.
It’s your fault you’re a dying breed–
We see through your chatter, we block
You out. You aren’t real, just an empty shell.
I want more.
Where is the God
You buried in ritual and recitation?
We need a renaissance:
To break free from these trappings,
Go back to The Book.
Keep hiding, concealing, cowering behind your wall;
I’ll unleash the avalanche,
For somewhere amongst these ancient ashes
There is truth.
Incant behind your alters in assemblies.
I’ll unveil Veritas.
You are strangling society…
Separating them from substance.
Your loath-ness to change
Dooms humans to Hades.
Tradition doesn’t matter.
Retain truth, and dismiss the rest.
The Savior died for their salvation,
But you can’t alter your sermons, your songs…
That would be an abomination.
Addicted to amenity;
Averse to alteration.
Tradition over truth
Get over yourselves
Before you are blamed:
‘The cause of the casualty.’