"There Was Blood Spilling From the Third Man's Side, and Some of It Spilled On Me."

Those words, they�re what stuck to me from that song my mother used to sing. It was about the human sacrifice of a guy who lived over two-thousand years ago -- whose magical father had possessed the power to save him.

�Christians� planted a dark �knowing�, deep in the bottom of my soul. I grew up watching the double-think, aware of my place in the world, that there was a chance I�d be sacrificed as sure as Jesus was dead.

Still, the ending of Mother�s song echos: �The things I saw, with my own eyes, could not have been more real.�