the self-styled trumpeteers of ethnic hate
wish to build fences
    close the gates
to keep out those who flee
from self-styled trumpeteers of religious hate
who, as it is,
claim to feel called to hold up
ancient teachings that are out of date
in modern democratic times
when neither chimes of church bells
nor the cries of muezzins
or any other servants of religion
rank higher than the people’s democratic vote

as we are told by the elected
trumpeteers of democratic nations

god and the state each get their share
in separate spheres
but do not mix

for me
those who dare violate this rule
just come across as desperate to solve
new problems with old words
look backward and believe
that when they sell regression
     garnished with some bows
it will be seen as progress
make people overlook that
     while they now may live by simple truths
they can no longer disagree
     without the fear of ****** harm

just let us speak out loud and clear
     against the self-styled trumpeteers' song

to **** in the name of whatever god
is always wrong

Yahweh Yahweh

Hear as I say

A crumbling rock is I as I stand

All points of the compass lies the sinking sand

And as bits of I fall

Jah, hear as I call.

For the Saints and the Angels

The knights of the round table

The prophets of old

The wise man with his gold.

The heathens the sinners

Enslaved cotton spinners.

The trumpeteers

The cannoneers.

The old blues players

The Christian slayers.

For Peter for John

I need not go on

And as they arrive

To watch this demise

Hear me.

Repentance I cries.

Yahweh Yahweh.

Yahweh Yahweh

Hear as I say

A crumbling rock is I as I stand

All points of the compass lies the sinking sand

And as bits of I fall

Jah, hear as I call.

For the Saints and the Angels

The knights of the round table

The prophets of old

The wise man with his gold.

The heathens the sinners

Enslaved cotton spinners.

The trumpeteers

The cannoneers.

The old blues players

The Christian slayers.

For Peter for John

I need not go on

And as they arrive

To watch this demise

Hear me.

Repentance I cries.

Yahweh Yahweh.

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The dull sparks of gradual attrition
Burn across the wheel and blade
In ever shaping blunt ambition
We stand back from the 'ol parade

Behind marching bands, trumpeteers
Sorcerers and demon trainers walk
Firetrucks, flags and summer beer
The passing crowds, stand and balk

The train goes off into a new track
Where do we go from here?