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Written In Church
Most times I consider my
need to live
I find too mysterious, its
hidden zest
I've lent my thoughts to
creeds of Hebrew-weave
To feed my troubled soul
with lasting rest.
I sit and watch as harps
and violins play
They've tamed their
worries; bound their
doubts to sleep
The doubts that stir my
soul, they've keþt away
They're wolves before
mine eyes in church as
sheep.
They tell me "hold on to
the Lamb of God"
Be gone from mind, ill
thoughts that plead to
grow
For fall of blasphemy is
good reward
The best reward for
blasphemy is woe.
I sit and watch as Heaven
weeps and bleeds
Her seeds are spread
before a church of weeds.
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