Hang your head, the preacher man said.
There is a hole, within your soul,
and, you better fix it, before you’re dead.

Amen, the choir sang. Amen, the crowd chanted.
Amen, the church bells rang. Amen, the sinners recanted.

Holy Rolling comes hard to me.
I just don’t appreciate the show.
Its got the feel of a ponzi scheme.
Its like swimming sideways,
whether up or down the stream

Speaking Tongues makes me wonder
who’s talking, who’s listening and why.
I grasp the point, I hear their plea.
I even try to make some sense,
but sorry, it’s still all Greek to me

Hang your head, the preacher lady said.
There is a rip, deep within your heart,
and, you need mend it afore the raptures start

Amen, the choir sang. Amen, the crowd chanted.
Amen, the church bells rang. Amen, the sinners recanted.

Bible Verses are head scratching lines,
as my mind begets to wandering.
They seem to have them canned, in a jar,
waiting for some righteous opportunity,
but literal parables are simply too bizarre

Damn You to hell I’ve oft been told
the yellow venom slick within their veins.
It reminds me much of the golden fleece
and the wolf and the lamb and the ruse,
if they truly cared, perhaps the word to use is peace

Lift your head, the universe said.
You are a shining star and as you carry your scar,
THEY talk of god, yet, that’s what YOU are.

Amen, the cosmos sang. Amen, the Mother chanted.
Amen, the wisdom rang. Amen, the idolaters recanted.