his id cries for our awe
and his belly our lot
his desire's an abyss
by our own free will
we are his pawn

his graceful carriage
exposes our lowliness
we drown in the sea
of his wrath
that man behind the pulpit

he's the symbol of god
centre of earthly devotion
clothed in purple and pearls
which have replaced
the joys of our dining room