Don’t look down where emaciated bodies lie beyond salvation they’re beneath you when you preach for profit.
Don’t look down to idle bones on the edge of prison walls they’ve already fallen their hands too bloodied to shake their eyes too blind to see the mistakes they are yet to make. Save the souls with the pound sign goals avert your eyes from the misery of the fallen they’re not even there if you don’t look down.
So, I was walking through the centre of Manchester as preachers had grins fixed on their faces, handing out flyers to the well-dressed passers-by, ignoring the homeless people that were surrounding them. Doesn't make sense does it?