A wiser man said Not so long ago That there is a God A God of pain Of impalement Crucifixion Burning Branding Beating Brutality Of flesh Torn by the tips Of the finest leather whips God of denial Whose mindless revisions Manipulate the past With maniac intuition So tell of this path To my salvation Lined with pillaged alms Broken glass, bleached bones Backs of nubile sinners Waiting, pleading To be saved and slain Lonely lord of constant rejection Of relapse or escape Real love or lusty desires Surprising to think That this may be Pious policeman Fascist father Cruel old king Relishing sadistic might Could it be by His own hand Right is wrong And wrong is right! A Christ on His throne All bleeding and dying Mary at his feet All bloody and crying And they call us morbid! We dont fear this fate Dont recoil from whats unknown But seek its dark embrace! They call me Heathen I dont fear this fate Send for your high priest Ill spit in his face!
relishing, nubile, pillaged, god, alms