Story Behind the Song
So tired of the so-called "Christians" whose upper class social clubs currently rape our lives with their 'justified' propriety, and have nothing to deliver but old tired words.
Lyrics
FACE DOWN IN THE MUD
Don’t talk to me ‘bout Jesus,
I don’t know no Roman name.
I know the brother, Fathers’ Son of Man,
truth is, He aint the same.
Don’t want no preditory heroes,
the proud protectors of the state.
They’re a mean blue machine,
a fraternal brotherhood of hate.
And all of them who make their wages with blood,
leave destruction in their wake,
and dead children face down in the mud.
Got no concern for the rich man,
for him it’s already too late.
‘Cause that criminal is too heavy and wide
to make it through the gate.
And all of them who make their wages with blood,
leave destruction in their wake,
and dead children face down in the mud.
Don’t need interpreters of freedom,
buyers and sellers of our fate.
The elected keepers of the status quo,
and all the hell they can create.
And all of them who make their wages with blood,
leave destruction in their wake,
and dead children face down in the mud.
And all of you who don’t believe it’s true
are fools in your ignorance.
Don’t see no sacred congregation,
just a lot of money upon their plate.
Caesars law is the sermons tale,
and Y’shuas love can wait.
And all of them who make their wages with blood,
leave destruction in their wake,
and dead children face down in the mud.
And all of you who don’t believe it’s true
are fools in your ignorance.
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