Vindicated

I'm a veteran flyer.
A soldier in the army of my lord.
For years I slew the armies of truth
that tried to conquer my nation with guilt.
My pockets have sung hymns to that god.
Powder. The smell of victory!
I pray you open my eyes even more!
That green man trying to possess me must be killed.
Hearing my son's cry for clothes on an empty stomach
never shook my faith.
I had to go to war again.
I had to win.
My demons would not rest until I cast them into hell.

Life is my godforsaken game of Russian roulette where I like losing.
I'm still flying yet not diploid.
My lord lives on.
Loyal to no troop and faithful to my lust,
my hymns rise and I sing them louder than ever before.
All hail the one true master of minds.
I'm vindicated by that grace called dependence.
I have reason to come again.
My dealer is the best preacher I know and I pay my tithes on time.
There's no judgement because I fly on grace punk!
And even if there was, I'm a soldier in the army of my lord and he's faithful.