Mother knows best for the bringer of worlds
A vortex of spells have pulled him in
When does he get the day to decide
where his momentum's released
And what kind of beast is conceived?

Rise my sea
Clench fists with air as if it's the throat of your God

They denied us

Swear that you will never let go
Let go
Let go of gods who don't show their face
And now the fountain of life runs dry
And your mill grinds slowly, as it should

Deities, they'll never give us what we want
Now go ahead and pray he's on your side
We've chosen ours
Will you choose our messiah?

We've chosen ours
Will you choose our messiah?

We've chosen ours
Will you choose our messiah?

Tethers are fashioned from silk
that divides lessers' distant glow

Tin gods, they descend all the same
They bend; it makes them easy to mold for our gospel's songs

Tethers are fashioned from silk
that divides lessers' distant glow

Tethers are fashioned from silk
that divides us from our lessers' distant glow

Tin gods, they descend all the same
Tin gods, they descend all the same

Mother knows best for the bringer of worlds