by Andy Balaam

My God, the whitewashed tomb Hates you And will torture you for eternity, Growing you new fingernails for every one he rips out My God, the marble statue Demands purity So even those who fit his awkward mould Are miserable in its pressing grip My God, the whitewashed tomb Thinks like me Distastefully donning plastic gloves Before handling this filthy world My God, the whitewashed tomb Loves me He will pluck me from this goddamned place And put me in a jar to watch it burn There will be no contaminants to dirty me There will be no air in there But I will not suffocate My God will be sufficient for me