Song parody of
Excommunication
by Damned by the Pope
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Stretched wide the gates to our exile shine
With embellished and ornate design for no longer shall
We be confined by the wretched and fraudulent
From his grace we depart not displaced but absolved
Of the chains that we bore and the weight we endured
Searing drought rotting plagues years without bronzen'd rays
Deafened by gods invoked and the prayers that we choked through our teeth
Embedded with great care, embraced in a frayed veil, emblazoned and kept frail
The dusts of our past encrust the great mask untouched and undashed
From which the gaze of our captor is cast
Severed from heaven as we wept for our sons
Toward infinite silences and beyond what has been known
Eternally gestating underneath the tumor we cultivate grows and grows
Yet still remains unseen
Desperately consuming anything that has intersected with its infectious path
Fed by the churning of love into ashes bereft of all guilt or compassion
Its fountainous scourge everlasting
And brimming with ominous depth, unquantified
Etched, scribed, the curse has been stained on our mind
Left to search for a cure to this blight that has all
But extinguished the light which had shielded and guided us
Stretched wide the gates to our exile shine
With embellished and ornate design for no longer shall
We be confined by the wretched and fraudulent
From his grace we depart not displaced but absolved
Of the chains that we bore and the weight we endured
Searing drought rotting plagues years without bronzen'd rays
Deafened by gods invoked and the prayers that we choked through our teeth
Embedded with great care, embraced in a frayed veil, emblazoned and kept frail
The dusts of our past encrust the great mask untouched and undashed
From which the gaze of our captor is cast
Severed from heaven as we wept for our sons
Toward infinite silences and beyond what has been known
Eternally gestating underneath the tumor we cultivate grows and grows
Yet still remains unseen
Desperately consuming anything that has intersected with its infectious path
Fed by the churning of love into ashes bereft of all guilt or compassion
Its fountainous scourge everlasting
And brimming with ominous depth, unquantified
Etched, scribed, the curse has been stained on our mind
Left to search for a cure to this blight that has all
But extinguished the light which had shielded and guided us
