Our Lost Infantry To Meet Your Maker
(verse)
Teleology gave us pause for thought
A mirror conversation in the absence of god
(chorus)
A pragmatist I've always been but desperate to believe
In holy welfare handouts I'm not programmed to receive
(verse)
The devil's in the details, or so they say, at least
What's heresy between us but a reason not to speak?
(chorus)
And if I am circumspect in spilling out my truth
Be sure that i am frightened, not just trying to be aloof
Fearful of the dialogue, this means to just one end
Let sleeping sages lie and maybe I can stay your friend
(chorus)
You're mumbling st. anselm with a knife across your chest
This pretence of righteous anger, give it all a f..cking rest
When you go to meet your maker, may it live up to your dreams
But this absence isn't public, it's between my god and me
(outro)
The lights are all on, but no-one's home
