I see you,
Supplicants and sycophants all,
Under those predatory spires,
Within ivory gothic monsters,
A church of destruction,

Did you know you stand on sacred land?
Not of the biblical kind,
But a boneyard,
As you kneel at your oaken pews,
You stand upon graves too,

This institution buried these bodies,
It ate them body and soul,
A temple of killers,
Justified by voices in your head and from the pulpit,
An ecclesiastical superiority complex,

You stand upon corpses,
You pray,
Looking up to ghosts of gods in the sky,
Prostrating yourselves to an absent father,
The rays in the clouds are just radiation,

Each skeleton is a sin,
Committed by the alleged unprofane.



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