Preserves and pies and cherry pits
Manic movements and faithful fits
Sponging filth around the face
Of what they deemed a holy place

Spewing truth, or so it's claimed
With all our natural desires defamed
What's left is bonnets and Sunday best
Bow down you chosen, it's hell for the rest

But why ask questions, there's no better
This world it is the perfect fetter
For all else conceived would fall so short
And so it's perfect, in thoughtless report

The white and black all black and blue
Who cares for reason, they fight for it's true
Like country and baseball and patriotism
That's how they avoid mental cataclysm

The wounds are healed with oil and tears
Bounded words comforting all of our fears
And caked onto a pile of ^%*^
A lie conformed for a perfect fit

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