What's up (on the cross)

what's up with this place around
what have we done to the round
why does it look like a shallow grave
where did they go, all those brave

water dripping not as clean as it used to
sky is cryin, acid, dust, as your veins do
breathe, come up for air, just to find
that shiny prospects of bright future lied

armaggedon they will summon
already three horsmen, so com'on
stand up before the bell tolls
and into a deep pit everything falls

what's up...you ask whazzup
nothin, it's just the satan risin'
it's just the planet dyin'
it's the birds not singing anymore
it's a grey smoke, hidin the whore

what's up... you ask whazzup
wonder, it's God, and his belief fallin
ponder, was it heaven, what was callin
you to enter, wide shut eden's gates,
or just you, win wars and pile deaths.

hahahaha....laughter will ring in your ears
the cross you carry, it will not ease
soon, they prepare to nail you down (with pleasure)
not an icon, not a saint, barbwire crown (my own treasure)

innocent thousands did they finish up before
your flesh will feed maggots, grass will grow
what have you done, miracles in this place?
will nations follow, swing sword for your dead grace?

the man they will later describe never was,
a work, created to strengthen their laws
in the grave you will not mind, would you?
and it was them, who judge, pray and sue you...

what's up... you ask whazzup
nothin, it's the cross' shadow growing longer
it's the sun picking up your eyes stronger
it's all that you will feel, and wish not to know
that all that rubbish, down the drain will go