Iconoclast

These are the bones of his disciples

Oil from the blubber of Jonah's whale

Two Samson's hairs eye of providence

Very old tooth of someone almost saint

Gott Mit Uns buckles flammable stakes

Stylish white robes and peaked white hoods

Laundries of Ireland and gold of Aztecs

Finest collection of filthy keepsakes

Nothing to lose

I Iconoclast

Nothing to fear

I doubt therefor I am

Nothing to lose

I Iconoclast

Nothing to fear

I laugh therefor I am

This is the dust from holy land

Here comes the storm to wash it away

This is the empire designed to fall

But hey Rome wasn't burned in a day