Nude Hommage to a Holy Forbidden Melody

This land of yesterday is filled with mindless priests of willing rage.

Rapists of the mind, mining for light in the darkness of a cave;

Astronauts of Christ, lost in both time and space, come down!

Eat some shrooms, smell a flower and laugh as if you were a clown!

Stop living so little, for the more you live, more love you gain.

Get out of this silly white dress - it can only bring you pain -

And join the glorification of our rising race! Zest in rivers of joy,

Toy with hearts and dames; turn yours into a man's, you grown up boy...

Ask any ghost who fought and died of cancer if  it helps to cry...

Apocalypse lancer... Your life has been a filthy, meaningless lie...

I've seen you pray for a sign, on your knees, every night, like a bird,

But unfortunately for all of us, an answer's yet to be heard.

So fly high and kiss the sky like once did Hendrix in sixty seven.

Board the led zeppelin. It's easier than building that stairway to heaven

You crave, with pretty learnt words carfully tossed adrift.

You'll find meaning here, now. Infinity itself shall be your gift.

You are not limited by the intentions of a higher bearded entity,

Nor are you imprisoned in this house of none, full of benches.

Go beyond the wall into the chambers of a nun, if not the wenches;

Sing along with us this nude hommage to a holy forbidden melody.

But if you choose to remain serving blindly that mute lord of yours,

At least release the lamb, whom you've protected like a carnivore

Beast, eating brains from inside; feeding them cookies dipped in wine

While they obediently followed orders you previously assigned.

Let them be protagonists to their own stories, let them enjoy credit

For both losses and glories to come. Only they can rectify and edit

Reality and sins, as opposed to those in Rome, flaunting malevolent grins;

Watching gold stand still, while the ill die of hunger and war always wins.

Africa, land in which it all begins, emancipates it's children at birth,

Since survival there is self-service and never pays what it's worth!

Who told them to live in that hot dry part of earth, one might ask;

I think they live there because it's home, and leaving home is never an easy task.

No one is watching over us. Home matters not; niether does that petty cry.

If a God ever existed, logic was the weapon of choice in his suicide!

Noxious worshipers like you drove Him to it, exausted of having to hide

From your greed, from your lies, from His sons; left alone, to kill and die...