I said, you know they refused Jesus, too. He said, you're not him.
If my thought-dreams could be seen/ They'd probably put my head in a guillotine.
Once I went into songwriting, I figured I had to - I couldn't be a hellfire rock 'n' roller. But I could write hellfire lyrics.
I am a restless soul hungry perhaps wretched.
He's hell bent for destruction, he's afraid and confused, and his brain has been mismanaged with great skill.
God is in heaven, and we all want what's his. But power and greed and corruptible seed seem to be all that there is.