There’s no solitude in a mass grave
No time to be with oneself
No silence
for the monks to meditate
Too many songs
too much swearing
The priest asks why
the pervert was placed above him
whenever he masturbates
it floods his bible pages
The drunkard complains
that the preacher’s wine bottle
never runs dry
men of God don’t care
men of God don’t share
The foul-mouthed prostitute
has convened a meeting
It’s a feminist’s campaign
for equal rights
see them chanting
placards held high
woe unto the sorcerer
who plucked their wares of trade
The landlord has no place here
These tenants won’t pay rent
All they do is complain
Too many cracks on the wall
Too many patches on the floor
The cannibal is cursing God
His prey has no blood
Nothing fresh in here
A musician is roaming the up and down
The promoter must pay his dues
What a beautiful sundown
The Monk wonders
but no silence to meditate
Sliver of Darkness 