As you scatter like chickens for the silver pieces flung
from the hand that grips the iron yoke about your neck,
Reach for the man’s handout and let your children suffer
until they’re herded together and led to the slaughter.
Isolated behind a weeping wall of Sunday faith and piety,
you turned a blind eye to the coming evil Godless horde
That connived to dismantle your wall verse by verse
and call you out for the sniveling Pharisees you are.
You turned your face when the cock crowed thrice, feigning
ignorance while your nation burned to ashes around you.
Your prayer, your Book, your temples dismantled by an
ideology that believes in nothing but the God-damned lie
That morals are relative and love is free and God-fearing
peoples are a cultural cancer upon the Earth. It’s
Christian to turn the other cheek, you said primly as
though the Lamb had said resistance was not Godlike, when
What He really said was render unto Caesar what is his,
but be sure to throw the moneychangers from the Temple.
Rather than take a stand and fight for your Saviour, you
chose cowardice and hoped the devil would go away so you
Could settle righteous into pews, set pious faces to gaze
upon the Cross, and sing hymns of martyrs to their faith.
A wise man said “The only thing necessary for the triumph
of evil is for good men to do nothing,” which you’ve done
Better than you’ve lived His words, much better than you’ve
helped others without a smug sense of self-satisfaction.
O, hypocrites thou art, approach the sacred altar rendered holy
by His blood, fall upon your knees and beg forgiveness for the
Bloodstained heart that holds the sacred book and claims the
mantle of the Lamb as cover for your vainglorious conceit.