The priest in his stately robes,
I am before him - looking into those murky globes.
I shake like a newborn, from the womb like Job-
I must make my confession.
Pure white fabric struck with red wine,
The blood of my God; thou art divine-
My mortal contract he will sign,
Continue with the procession.
Knees creaking, lowering at the pew,
Devout numerous, yet genuine few;
Their hearts are false -mu...