Oh you fleshly saints

That know not the Father

Yet make the Innocents gather

And adore your spurious paints

Oh you the heavenly ordained arachnids

That spread on the Alter sweet scented incense

But beneath the carpet is solace for Amadioha

That fuels your messages with innocent bloods

Oh you the chosen ones

That bare different messages

And receive different revelations

That which speaks of the same Father

Oh you who forbid the ways of the fetish

But dance on one foot possessed with the stuff of lie

Below the white wonderful gown

Is the belt bonded with vile

That which brings the Father down

Oh you the putrid oracles

That speak solely of miracles

You whose secret chambers see innocent nudes

That which you publicly despise

Oh you who market the Faith

You who trade barter in His Name

For flimsy frivolous purpose of fame

You who impersonate Him

And elevate yourselves above His Authority

Think not you deceive the Innocents

Think not your deeds are concealed

Think not you deceive Him

Tell the lie to yourselves but not Him

Tick tock, the clock ticks

And sunset

His call comes clear to you

On outside sea, you meet with Him

Face to face to defend your stewardship

When you finally cross the bar