Truth

Sometimes unsure of what I believe, What’s binding my cure may be reprieved, Religion that’s pure will never receive, The profits brochure that’s meant to deceive... A pulpit stand seems more of a stage, So a culprit can make a decent wage, As passing his pan increases the gauge, Amassing the plans that’s funding each page... Some are for reasons not so mundane, Committing to treason and changing their name, Like moths that's in season attracted to flame, The cloth of our Jesus is burning with blame... When beacons stand with hands on the book, Preaching his plan whenever it shook, Teaching chance every time that he took, The deacon’s wife who was giving him looks... So who do we praise when all’s said and done, I’m counting the days when I become one, There’s so many ways the faithful is shunned, So I look for the truth right where it begun...