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Between Woodley and Wisconsin, I remember the day
When I put on the uniform of green, white, and grey
Walking inside Cathedral with a faded heart of shame,
I pleaded to God, please, please, help me not to be the same.

As time grew old and leaves aged, I eventually left.
Looking back at Cathedral, my faith dribbled in depth.
Everyone knew, in the choir was a serious theft,
And also was a pastor, a nun, a priest plead not to confess.

As of now, I am a beautiful disgrace with a bogus gratitude,
A ironically flawless work of bloody heaven and shiny hell.
Never thought I would return to this imposer of Jesus,
Moreover, to fall on my knees longing for the tolling-church-bells…