False gods

Shows you a monster inside his hands
Claims that he's cleansing the sins of men
With his righteous indignation

He holds a lifeline
Just out of reach
Tells you to beg for it
Down on your knees
It's a white knight symptom

And you'll fall for it, crumble like sand
Eating out of the palm of his hand
A discarded part of his plot
But you knew not to worship
False gods

Shows you a pathway
A promise of light
Closes the doorway
Leaves you behind
Self-prophet (profit) vision

He'll call the masses
Blood on his knife
You'll be the scapegoat
Know where to sign
Unwilling witness

And you'll fall for it, crumble like sand
Eating out of the palm of his hand
A discarded part of his plot
But you knew not to worship
False gods

He is the monster
He is the monster