deepundergroundpoetry.com
Easter
...And church is not what I remember.
Where is the elegance?
Where is the faith?
Where is the hope?
What is this place?
Is it my hope that is lost?
Or is it the enthusiasm,
that is forgotten
And what is left,
is reluctance.
Simple followers,
lost.
For blindness is the reason for the season.
And I am committing treason,
I've opened my eyes.
And spread the disease
of lost simplicity.
You may have a Shepherd
(and hes dead,
and in your head)
but your still just sheep.
Where is the elegance?
Where is the faith?
Where is the hope?
What is this place?
Is it my hope that is lost?
Or is it the enthusiasm,
that is forgotten
And what is left,
is reluctance.
Simple followers,
lost.
For blindness is the reason for the season.
And I am committing treason,
I've opened my eyes.
And spread the disease
of lost simplicity.
You may have a Shepherd
(and hes dead,
and in your head)
but your still just sheep.
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