Pharmaceutical preachers propagate their gospel,
Commercializing deceit and envy for fame.
They cry in the streets for all who hear
Urging, "Come and get your 'dab will do ya'."

Delve into the world they sell you,
Colorful capsules of gluttony and fear,
Packaging so convincing and grotesque,
Get addicted and come back for more.

A cold heart can see what blinded eyes cannot,
Raped in their homes and addicted to god.
They sacrifice at the altar of nonsense their sanity for security,
Yet do not perceive it.

They accept the lie that freedom can be bought,
They take a little Angel Dust to lift the burden of their souls.
Tithing to the industry that made them,
They forget about the pain for now, teaching others to do the same.

(March 14, 2003, missing the last stanza from the original; at that point, I was starting to see the Christian church as ridiculous)