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This week is bleak, the birds don’t sing
No sun, no rains, but greyness
Even the churchbells didn’t ring
Have they become atheists
The bellman and the bearded dean
And all the congregation?
In times like this to breathe is sin
No promise of salvation 
Can take away the truth it fakes
And like a stubborn stem
Grows through the slab, the truth condemns  
The order of the damned
So atheism’s a way to go
Believe in politicians 
They must continue this old show
Which you can call fictitious 
But wasn’t it meant to be as such?
Just ask the God, if you
Don’t think he is disturbed too much
With millions in the queue
That stretches out through centuries
Dead people want to know
What were their lives about, if this
Was meant to be a show
Beware the Ides of March, in case
The warning comes in time
If there is still a time to waste
You doubt it? So do I.

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