Sunday morning, Tony is a church goer
Last night, he saw double like Noah
He partook in baptism of the booze
Today, his head is in church maybe to cut the noose

She's Chioma, that girl on red see
Last night she pathed thighs like red sea
Today she's singing soprano, hitting high notes
Maybe her heartful of worship is oily in God’s throat

My landlord's Jerusalem bible is a sign board
Yet he has lined his wife's head on a chopping board
Last night, he beat her until her nose oozed out pus
Today, I can feel my landlady's racing pulse

I recognised that usher at the gate of the church
I think I have already seen too much
Indeed the church must be a hospital
I've seen enough to make me cough spittle

For those of us who know those on camouflage
We will beg the doctor for a discharge
Because thieves and call girls speak tongue of thunder
I see occultists and killers tithing , I wonder

Who razes down the house of Saturday night
Has an apartment in the house of light
Next Sunday, I'll come to ask God why
Does Saturday night habits hardly die

This is more like a rap. Will fit well as a song. Just try it.