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