A monk with a hard-on

And a lavender robe

That scratches his thighs

Through the hat that he strode

As he follows a path

Filled with every desire

And mimics his footsteps

And sets his prayers on fire.



Well i too have chosen

That which left no choice

To sing without loving,

A solitary voice,

To observe with passion

Each careful denial:

The protrusions which give my life meaning

For a while.



Sometimes i see you in berries and weeds

You're brushing your teeth with liquorice seeds

Standing too close,

Pulling your clothes,

Smiling at god

And the meaning of life grows.



No and i'll never tell

And i'll never know

What candles you light

After the show

And i'll never tell,

And i'll never ask

The meaning of life after mass.