Greetings From Easter Island

We were seeded
By a mother culture
Children of genius
That have stalled into ignorance
The writings on the wall
Spell out a surprising past
We only decipher them
To be primitive artistic rash.

God dies when the churches rise
He was born when the ancient astronauts arrived
The heavens exist and our maker is there,
Death is not the way to visit, technology is our only prayer.

The gods left behind
We're just scorned upon when appealed
They are the maps to our existence
That are soon to be revealed
The writings on the wall
Spell out a surprising past
We only decipher them
To be primitive artistic rash.

God dies when the churches rise
He was born when the ancient astronauts arrived
The heavens exist and our maker is there,
Death is not the way to visit, technology is our only prayer.

Not ready to be the grateful slaves of the state.

God dies when the churches rise
He was born when the ancient astronauts arrived
The heavens exist and our maker is there
Death is not the way to visit, technology is our only prayer.
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