On the clean-cut blades of grass,
Enticing tunes of a flute.
A shepherd gathers the goats.
Sugar coated cross on the rooftop,
Cotton candiology at the pulpit.
The goats talk amongst themselves;
'Hurry; these Disneyfied halls sure do fill up quick.'
Free breads plunge into the bottomless pit.
The lyres repeat themselves in vain,
and the Truth is shrouded in the baptistry.
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