They all stare as I step up to the platform.
The pattern of the world, they want me to conform.
To admit that God is dead.
This moment fills me with dread.
God is dead, this they want me to proclaim.
They want all the be the same.
A Godless nation.
A Godless generation.
A nation with no desire.
A nation with no fire.
I pray to my creator.
The one who whom is greater.
I hear a soft voice.
It gives me one choice.
I choose to listen.
For I am Christian.
Without any shame,
I proudly proclaim,