Greetings From Easter Island - I Am Abomination

We were seeded

By a mother culture

Children of genius

That have stemmed into ignorance

The writings on the wall

Spell out our surprising past

We wrongly 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

Beacons left behind

Which are scorned upon when appealed

They are the maps to our existence

That are soon to be revealed

The writings on the wall

Spell out our surprising past

We wrongly 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

We were made to be the grateful slaves of the stage

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