Dropping from my mind,
This pernicious bundle of beliefs,
Unto my hand like a squirmy caterpillar;
Writhing in my filthy hand.
Tossed in the air and away you fly like a butterfly;
Like a vulture, fly away.
I am fed up with the filth and murkiness
So I cast them out like spells
I cast them in the air where I got them.
All the promises have come to naught
And my spirit is worn out.
Beaten to paralyses with weighty doctrines,
And empty church services.
A manís only relief now
Is the heaven that resides within
And his paradise itself hanging
On a hopeless raffia rope.
God must have turned his back on us
Or we have turned ours on him.
Todayís alters have been desecrated
By greed and fetish abracadabra.
The pew is a hopeless place to be.
The shepherds have turned against the flock.
Today one is haggling with a stripper;
Exonerating an ex-convicted politician
Tomorrow another is standing behind
A radical terrorist group,
Or the group is standing behind him.
The day after who knows what will come up.
We can only walk backward to paradise now
With eyes tied and ears muffed
And lips sealed.
Itís gonna be a long blind walk.