Thursday, November 12, 2015

All these people with their gods and idols
Their weak reasons and their big red devils
The ghosts of their fathers rattling in their skulls
Clinging so tight to that ray of hope they invent

One day those churches will fragment
The shards in their eyes as they lament
All the light and hope crumbled like cement
And I think on that day I'll want to laugh

Held so high that gleaming golden calf
The newborn child cut up divided in half
Paying the priests to plead on their behalf
No more the devout now the stumbling mob

The hands held tight on the doorknob
The face turned away from the macabre
The feet fleeing the stress of their job
The emptiness coming fast and hard

The children sleep softly in the graveyard
As the dogs and rats stand silently on guard
The wedding dresses covering the skin scarred
No hand holds, no eyes meet, all is dust now