Cry For The Priest - Beau
With pine and panatela hanging heavy in the air
The orders come obliquely from the shadows of the chair;
And to all those who complain that his justice is unfair
He blinks his eyes
And someone dies
But he's happy now at least
He prays not for religion but he cries for the priest
His sword his sable spirit they manoeuvre high above
The night the servant is punishing the dove
And to all those who remain to soak up all his love
He looks so good
As he drinks the blood
That they offer at the feast
Then he prays not for religion but he cries for the priest
Hanging in between the abstainer and the drunk
From high upon the hill into the depths he has sunk
His cast and his Company have bundled up the trunk
And quickly found
Some higher ground
'Til the rain and the thunder have ceased
They pray not for religion but they cry for the priest
It's a bitter smoke that rises where only anger burns
No judgements are suspended no matter who adjourns
And who will feign amazement when in triumph he returns
A mere device
A sacrifice
To lay before the beast
With a prayer not for religion but a cry for the priest
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