Lavish life of filth spent riding your high horse
Express lane, first class, private island, barely taxed
Everything to prove to everyone but you
Spurned are the ones who don't live life as you do
Acquisitive mind set to own/control/seek/ destroy
Artificial morals molded right to your religion
Remorse is the currency to buy your salvation
The dollar pays your penance
But the holy corporation won't save you
The wallet in your pocket won't save you
The sin eaters won't save you
One day you will fall, like the cross on your wall
You will see no gates
Only a black abyss
And you will decompose in a box like us all