I have hummed those hollow hymns,
I have hung my head in shame.
I have found myself tangled in the vine that grows no grapes.
I have tasted the sour wine that was Blood.
Now I seek my solace in stronger, cheaper stuff.
In heaven, everything is fine.
You’ll have your good things,
I guess I’ll get what’s mine.

I have heard it said that there is pow’r in the blood.
Would you spill my guts to prove devotion to your god?
There is no angel in this thicket, there is no Sacrificial deer.
But before you bind my hands – hey look – what’s that over there?
There is no free will to be found in a Sacred ultimatum. 
No love in the demand for propitiation.

But would you kill the calf for me anyway?
After all,

I’m already home.