Kumbaya
Sing Kumbaya around the fire; don’t look around
As beneath the baptismal waters the black sheep drown
Cold currents under the surface pull their breath down
Lullabies of praise snuff their cries as flickering flames of lives
Drown in the wax spilled from the wicks of the sacred candles you keep alive
Nothing left but the white smoke that veils our views and cares
Pure white smoke to lighten the dark we share
You choke on your collar but I’m the one who can’t speak. You stare
As I gasp and try to holler, but don’t even seem to breathe your pure air
You say everything happens for a reason, and I want so much to reply,
“The reason is you’re a bunch of complacent jerks, and without the gospel, your bowery of a church couldn’t attract one fly!”
You might say me a prayer, some sacred line
But if I wanted one, I can pray for myself just fine
If only I had a voice, I would tell the church that there are few things more cruel
Than a world where everyone believes in angels, but nobody believes in you.
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