Empty

Maybe an empty canvas is all we're meant to be Left without tools to create anything of our own Maybe an empty canvas is more than what you see The only way a mistake is noticed when left all alone I suppose bitterness is nothing more than my own creation But it's that which gives my place impact And it's that which gives me the fuel and excuse To shove my thoughts so deeply and carelessly [down your throat] I'm so sick of you and your dulled-out halo Pretending God blessed you and brought your dreams to life You've merely left the rest us to starve As his blessings run short and force us all to fight Spit in the offering plate as it passes to the nearest sheep I'm disgusted by your falsified beliefs of sacrifice I'm looking for the pound of flesh Jesus left with them I'd love some compensation for the pain and suffering I've been denied I want my own heaven I want my own heaven