the priest

he walks to the altar, tall and proud
smiling kindly at the fortunate crowd
and so he begins the saviour’s story
his arms high with their own sweet glory
he’s different, he’s the special one
chosen to do that which has to be done
his robes, long and blessed white
now cloak now reveal his holy might
he clears his throat and then begins
and grants release from their sins
his rich baritone touches the ceiling
and swells his chest with divine feeling
“His is the way but I am the talk
and these misled poor are our flock”
thus he polishes his halo into lovely gold
yet all they see is a man silly old.

ram cobain