We can't afford him and that's a sin Jesus used to be free but now he's on sale,
every street corner in Stratford hosts a prophet each with their own visions of heaven and hell to sell, and well, Westfield's in the hell division branded as a place of gluttony and pride.
I've tried to appease them, bent over backwards and pushed hard to please them but they're on the ball waiting, I wonder if they'll bother to catch me on the day that I fall or will they be too busy handing out pamphlets flooding these hamlets with litter.
But bitter I'm not I've got time on my hands, might wander off into those biblical lands to commune with the divine,