A Forest Of Stars - Prey Tell Of The Church Fate

So we forge onward through lonely valleys of pious pretense.
No healthy prophets encountered outside these steely inquisitor's eyes.
No men of any monotone god we could stand proud beside.
They and their gilt-riddled baubles cast onto the blazing temple pyres,
holy whore houses proudly reduced to ashes of sweetest desecration.
Soporific spirits quaffed from dusty, sightless skulls.

Strong-heart would not entertain their malady.
Weak of will tangled in leprosy.
Spiritual sickness babbling incessantly.
Babbling Babylon put to the torch.

Pinched faces staring through funereal fog,
felt flame broiled crook'd hands a'grasp.
Ground them to fine dust, snorted them deep.
Left coated in confusion, with my lack of sleep.
You that seek to encode reality, to defraud sanity -
Be damned!

You that seek to incarcerate spirit, to calcify astral eyes -
Be damned!

Be mindful that mind is not you.
Be mindful that you are not mind.
Be mindful that heart knows how this goes.

As real as Azrael?

Don't mind - never mind.
Don't mind - never mind.