What Gifts did to Sunday, Christmas

It seems Sunday morning has become meaningless
Just like what unwrapping gifts brought upon Christmas day
For all the wrong reasons in life you chose to fight
Not for family, or human rights, but for your comfortable pew
Though you change your spot, its not your fault you ran away
The old one bears the black spot of someonelse' broadcasted shame
A panel made judgement claimed over another comfort seeking soul

How could she have ever knew her son's marriage would fall apart
Divorce wasn't what she tuaght and yet an optional choice he made
So her son might not give up his soul to obtain a pretty view
A plastic version of the girl he once knew

Won't lay claims from a mobile pulpit that I'm a saint
My sexual preference is against the blindness of your belief
But human rights equality burns so bright deep inside of me
I'm only one raging against your ignorance
Bigotry, and blind out of context believing conformity
A series of facts you embrace claiming you'll never change

I desire to make myself clear so please read my lips
Fuck you and who you've always been
You raised me, toss me out, and label my existense a sin
I can agree with you that the way you exist
Is a blind love I'll never know

godless judgements can't help save your soul
When for love you'll safrifice nothing not even time
But for a status you'll sell your child's soul
As a mathmatics equation equality's moral truth wiil challenge you
Forward no longer into the mistakes of past you must go
Retrace your path or step into a dangerous unknown

Learn from the ignorant comfort h(e)aven you lived in
When nothing but money would you do for those you profess to love
You didn't raise a finger only angry eyes and a mocking voice
As a war cry of vocal rage against your own to fight

Daily towards heaven or hell you must go
You are the one to blame for your own every day
On the tele the evangelist screams in unkown tungues
And the prompter ticks with a resounding bell
Another angel gets their wings as we condemn
A new Christian to our blind believing auditorium hell

When I think of you and what you put me through
Just to be accepted and have your Sunday morning show
I wish you could see how your destroyed my faith
A relationship with Christ that was never really there

Even now in service I hear your emotional voice over flow
With the words that never filled the gap in your soul
But made you feel good and a decent man once a week
When in the dark lighting in hushed voices you did sing
Welcome to the knowledge of hell's hypnosis you all embrace
On Sunday mornings as you fall over, stream tears and knees quake

I forgot Church's purpose so long ago
When the hatred therein created a hole
Just like what unwrapping gifts did to Christmas day
It seems also that Sunday morning has become meaningless
For a status in an unholy building you sold my soul
And all the lives therein sling pity upon other's shame
Created by non other than your judgements and blame