Softly she slips into church
she has only come here to hear
the children who sing in the choir
their voices so crystalline clear
She knows all the people by name
they greet her with nods and broad grins
but she doesn’t believe their believing
and she doesn’t believe in their “sins”
The voices of children ring sweetly
singing of peace and of love
as the people wine-sipping and kneeling
give praises to something above
But she’s only here for the beauty
all the rest is simply nonsense
to join in would be, well, hypocrisy
she will stick with good old common sense
As the voices crescendo and sparkle
and the cadences make her heart melt
purest joy, purest peace she is feeling
as complete now as ever she’s felt
She says that the voices are angels
she says that the singing’s divine
but what has it to do with this breaking of bread
and this delicate sipping of wine?
She sits there surrounded by glory
bathed in the light of life-force
enjoying the joy of her Sunday
but ever ignoring its source.