Lyrics Dealers Of Guilt - Profane Omen

Dealers Of Guilt

Raise yourself to be a preacher;
tell the people how to live a sorry life,
pretending you’re not condescending
I hate your guts!
The parasites dealing this guilt with their lies
I dream of the day when the last of those leeches will die, WILL DIE!
Worthless words from a worthless mouth, but the noise you make heard over the
truth
I’m not listening so quit your endless bitchin'
Let Me Be!
False preacher, a mail-order Jesus got the answers I don’t f*cking want
You’re not a master, I’m not a puppet
Go stare at a barrel of a gun!