The mumbling stumbling father of the faith.
Who makes it too his service fragile and made of glass.
Who reads the book upside down knowing eyes will never see.
The blankly staring flock who are programmed into their seats.
Who tells a story of gambling, then spends his children's coin.
Who speaks of the wrongs of killing, then buries his victims down.
O the mumbling stumbling father of the faith.
Who leads you blindly to other gates.