You must all meet
at the Father’s home
those whose sin
always prays alone.
The mortal speaks
demanding heed
a women of God
what’s that make me.
Through soulless hymns
my spirit sails
releasing me
from this Sunday Jail.
Free the man, to the souls outside
Internal faith, can’t be denied
Melt that gold, off the Holy Grail
make it shine, in this Sunday Jail.
Pass the basket down
first add some weight
pay the toll
to raise the gate
Statues and glass
saying look at “we”
My church, my skin
a walking creed
Tear down these walls
Earth’s got no roof
a soulless girl
requires proof
Free the man, to the souls outside
Internal faith, can’t be denied
Melt that gold, off the Holy Grail
make it shine, in this Sunday Jail.
BY>> LADY ICANA