Sinners

Everyone wants to dance with the devil
But no one wants to burn in his fiery halls.
We're sinners wearing preacher's robes,
Passing off cynicism like it was gospel. 
Spinning our twisted deeds into glorious stories
Trying to turn them into golden wings with rotten roots,
Holding out the hope that they can lift us to a heaven never designed to hold our mangled souls. 
I'd rather dine with the devil and feel the burn
Than swallow my amens of lies in Gods never ending light 
Never seeing the shadows lurking just out of sight.
We're all just sinners playing a saint's game,
Trying receive redemption from a man who won't ever show us his true face