I can see the people kneeling,
Learned prayers they are uttering
I can hear the hymns, the sacred songs
The shattered faith, the faith so wrong.
They kneel and close their very eyes
But cannot feel the warmth from highs,
Instead they see the darkest depth,
They choose to live the life of death.
They cannot see the elated hearts
But they can see the darkened marts
They cannot feel the prize of love
They choose to find the price of love.
I wander how they can breathe
In the air with a smile so blithe
Although it’s filled with lies,
Anger, envy, greed, havoc and cries.
I can see their blatant eyes
With a sight that vaguely flies
While the music of their psalm
Can’t hear the soul of the Father’s lamb.
The sound of their golden trumpets
Flies into the high firmaments
But the harmony turns into frets
The harmony turns into fragments.
They sing the praise of holiness
But their fight is an impious mess
The heads kiss the floor of faith
But their minds are darkness’ mate.
They listen to the words of enlightenment
But they verbally harm the other men
The guns… the bullets roam in the air
The infectious blood for them is fair.
They lost their lives, their hallowed lives
They release their hearts and hold their knives
They enter the abode of sacred light
But their hearts still reflect the shady night.
They broke their faith in their own temple
And forgot the sound of the righteous treble
They are strangers in their own realm
And I’m sorry, ‘cause I’m one of them.
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