Among thee, desperation paints Sallow cheeks and shaking palms In the temple in which every child Consecrates a rebirthing, rejoicing Psalm Are the steadfast oaths of ages past Belittled with the present ecstatic gestures? And upon mine, my chest is pounded In lieu of papyrus padded scriptures
He walks, the offender, through the halls While burnt offerings are singed with frankincense And pulls the steepleβs steel bells In ode to the sorrowful April showerβs Lent And finally, the King sits upon his throne Ad clerum, to the clergy, and nods with respect When eyed, the child burns inside a dress Whilst he forgot to genuflect
Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming age In which thine beloved empire crumbles And the voice of fire breathes out like winter breath In response to those insidious mumbles In a world where the ox and *** are slain For charity to make light of a bleary spring While He still whispers in my conscience Still exists their soul in everything