Hey there, all of you boys and men,
Don your white shirts and tuck them in.
All of the women, who get no rest,
Slip right into your Sunday best.
You’ve got three hours of church to go,
And then we’ll see what kind of seeds you’ll sow.

Some say you’re a cult,
But that’s probably not true ,
But there’s the issue of your doctrine,
Which is different and new.
And while most of your members,
Are good at heart,
There are plenty of elitists,
Who are set apart.

It’s an impermeable society,
All of the newcomers know,
Which is just a bit odd,
As you grow and grow.
But unless you are born,
To the chosen ones,
You might as well forget it,
Cause you’ll never be one.

You’ve got a lot of friends,
To make you proud,
They’ll pat you on your back,
And say nice things out loud,
But you better be careful,
When they speak behind your back,
As they’ll destroy your reputation,
With guile and tact.

They’ll speak of exaltation
In the life to come,
Where they’ll be on a first name basis,
With the Chosen One.
They’ll have magnificent mansions,
And planets of their own,
And a string of wives,
To make a Muslim groan.

They’ll promise you riches,
If you’ll take their name,
And they’ll list your family,
In their book of fame,
And all you have to do,
For this to obtain,
Is to swallow your pride,
And play their game.

I wonder if they ever
Stop and consider,
All of the pain and sadness,
They collectively deliver?
Rumors run rampant,
Fueled by speculation,
And the destruction that ensues,
Is met with gleeful anticipation.

So, if you don’t mind,
I’ll take a pass,
And content myself,
At Sunday mass.
Feel free to imagine,
What you will,
And dream of your mansions,
On Orion’s hill.
But before you award yourself,
Eternity’s golden prize,
I suggest that you honestly
Open your eyes.
For the humble will be blessed
In the world to come,
And the proud left wanting,
When the day is done.