Angry but grateful
The Priest with a shovel filled with gravel
He can't seem to stop falling to sin
His congregation can't seem to stop falling to their graves
His life too precious for God to need
He feels like a barren seed

Here in this marked space
Framed by faces of fame
Lies a young dame
That died before she had a name

There lies the gazer
With his belly on the mountain
Not dreaming of the harvest
Hoping to reap more

A thunderous hallelujah
Beckons God to receive
This new heave
That we've put to sleep
With the blood on hands
And the tears on our face

The Priest's shovel dances
The gravel hits wood, trees and branches
The decibel, chilling
But to dead dame appealing
She's heard of the relief felt by those that don't chase The Thief

Time ashes, Termites eat the coffins to dust
The Priest at the feet of the Holy One
Mouthing Beethoven's fifth
Singing his every deed
In a murderous tone
The sound of a sinner's guilt

The dame and the judging sheep
Side by side, up the creek
In a battle of theatre and Baa
The young dame at the Priest's altar
The Priest in The Lord's ear
We all watched drunk in a silent bar
As our sobriety cleared
Soaring sea to sky
Eating fish and tearing the firmament

Then the Priest's son walked in
With a clarinet in his holster
And blood in his ears
He said a lightening of hallelujah struck him deaf
Then be blew in his clarinet
Leaving us all dead

Down 6 feet and up the ladder
Heaven awaits with a matter
To be judged by the ones the Priest didn't bury
The announcer says to the heavenly hosts "Are you reaadddddyyyyyy?!!!!"

The newly buried step up
God looks vexed up
In disgust of their frantic stupor
He curses them with lupus

They told their stories itching
They did their bidding
They told tales of the birds and the bees
Between the Dame and the Priest
Heaven came enraged of such human deeds
Then God said "I've heard that one before"
Suddenly peace came on the floor

The sheep stop their bleating
Close-ups of the ate and eaten
God banished the Dame to the Devil's den
And left the Priest and his seeds to stand as comic relief
For those running from The Thief

© Abiola