Man can build their dolls,
And pray to their arts and statues.
They can dream,
and wish,
and fear,
And all,
For they still
Will pay off their dues.

A one true god believed by one
Is flawed in only his jealousy
The men
The women
The children
And sinners
Will follow him ever so readily.

But when men perish
Lives selfishly cherished
Will fly up not to clouds.
They'll trip and fall
And traverse the tall
Pillars that carry earth's crowds.

Even the saints will work when embowed.
In hell, the man is in town.