Gods of flesh

For while these graves last so long,
A square inch of earth is not to be.
Let the dead burn, for the old ways,
A pound of flesh, and let me be.

Words of love do not a song make,
Nor those of hate, a ballad beget.
Sad are those days a god was made,
Of human flesh, water and holy bread.

Then we were men and today we are,
Red it has been and always will be,
The color of blood always so cheap
And so there is god, always will be.

Of sons and prophets, and earthen lay,
Of masks and words, and another day.
In blood have me a future bought,
And blood will the price we will pay.

Close the doors of your heaven,
For life at the doors of hell,
Here on earth, we live our lives,
Here on earth, our god's dwell.