Dealers Of Guilt (Profane Omen)

Twisting the truth with a tongue so worthless that even the taste of shit goes to waste, vomit those words in case someone hasn't heard your opinion! 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 fucking want. You're not a master, I'm not a puppet. Go stare at a barrel of a gun!