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...
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