(mother may i) burn the heretic

Gilded cross upon the alter,
An icon of your sad god.
You mourn your savior
Breadth of weakness,
An honourless deity
Mine is a godless honour,
Yours a godly wonder
A mortal god is no god,

But a man in guise
A foolish weakling, who under heavens cries

My religion has no faith, I push the envelope every day.
My meditation stupefies the simpleton.

I make life, I break life and warp it to my will
I culture the likes of Man
And what displeases me ends up in the...

Can

Mother, will these fools not learn?

Mother, will these fools not learn?
They mortify my soul.

You were here before he
An impostor in a jester suit
Crawling, and begging
Man must grow strong,
Fitness is the only virtue
A mortal god is no god, but a man in guise,
I am man, I am mortal, I am god
My meditation is salvation [sadly]
Bow down peons, I have arrived
Your living god shall save you
Mother, they have not learned
May I burn the heretics?