Our Father who art in
The Garden of our passion, lust filled walls, fountains of sin
Our Father who
Is one of our own, sacrificial lamb upon a cross
Our Father
Who turns his head and cries and he watches his son die
Mon Dieu, Pourquoi
Cosmic images of white beards and wooden planks
The man searches for all that he cannot seek
Man searches for that which he'll never find
Hollowed be his name
For thine is the kingdom
Church, burnt in house, boarded shutters
Bed with needles
And the power and...
The speechless quality of words echoing in darkness
Train of thought irrelevant
And the power and the...
The will to submit, spiritless
The roads never ending
Benediction
The world cannot submit
As long as it is doomed to this.
Copyright 2005 Philip Wright
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