Make Believe

I was raised in catholic school,
Taught to obey that one golden rule.
That is he who sins in the heavens above,
Deserves all your praise, devotion and your love.
Because he had a son who had died for our sins.
And with that sacrifice came a sense of contrition.
That we all seem to feel when we're down on our knees,
Looking up to God hoping he'll answer all our needs.
But I tend to believe that it's all for not,
And when the sun does set, all our souls will rot.
Along with our flesh and our bones and our blood,
Will seep into the earth reconnecting with the mud.
And I think to myself, what a beautiful lie.
To waste being devout, to what could all turn out to be a lie...
To be a lie...
Now I do not know, but I have been told.
If you don't believe in him, well then the devil owns your soul.
But let us just examine what's below this land,
It's a story of a man with a pitch fork in his hand.
Could you honestly believe in such a tall, tall tail?
Something that sounds so make believe, just like a sailor and the wind.
Well I guess that this song has sealed my own fate.
Lucifer won't take me, ain't crossing through no pearly gates.
But if I know what exists, well that's fine by me.
I will gladly spend the after life waiting in purgatory.
Purgatory...