their voices echo through empty
seats,
a walls a suns’ scorch take,
and a tear that clouds let beaten,
a only audience in misery,
and their hearts be in faith,
their souls a redemption seek,
and i pity these poor mouths,
in pureness a thought sing,
a religion long robbed,
cunning liars and honest thieves,
that barerly steal but borrow,
prayers that heal now packaged,
pity to the naivity of flock,
had i but a way to kill ignorance,
but i to judge shall not,
sit back to waves of drowning
voices,
watch faith tear us apart,
and hope forgivenes shall rain
down on we,
for little sins i hear lay in no
different a pose,
with that a man that hard sweat
a offering take,
to drive in ,
erect castles guarded by breath
picking cannines,
religion corrupt,
corrupted,
capitated,
now a cripple that can’t crawl,
a field of actors and actresses,
dancing and falling to ‘powerful ‘
hands,
prayers from a man that barely
cares for his family,
and the Holy books,
oh they got a gift to interpret
them,
nonsensial gibbering,
see them take the asphalt,
and they fill their seats,
awaiting those pockets,
pity..
