Quiet and unmoving figure in shadowy sanctuary
Heavy in cement, garish colours and mass produced worship
Your arms wide, open and embracing the slums and towers
The misery, noisy and desperate incantations- calculus for virtue
Hungry in extravagant prayer, furious in all encompassing faith
Harder and colder in steely indifference, gold hearted over empty stomachs
Adorned, lavished, ancient and praised amongst aching limbs and inner torment
Before you we fearfully fold in submission, for you may be muted,
But the devil’s voice is always echoed, among spectral nations and monstrous profit
Blood drinking machines and ciphers in our souls
