Shadow of a Darker God

I'm standing in the shadow of a darker kind of god,
the likes of whom I'm sure you've never known.
Not long ago I left the path where wiser men have trod
to wander down an alley of my own.

My god sees all I'm doing, each and every little sin;
there really is no reason to confess.
But still he takes no notice of the blinding pain I'm in.
Of course, my god is not the kind to bless.

My chosen house of worship is an old abandoned shack.
I go there when the light has left the day.
I creep into my rotting church and, lying on my back,
I close my eyes and I begin to pray.

I'll always be a prisoner to his ever-shifting shape.
I know to one so pure it must seem odd.
I've tried so hard to break away, but I cannot escape
the angry shadow of a darker god.