Cry For The Priest

Cry for the Priest - Beau

With pine and panatela hanging heavy in the air

The orders come obliquely from the shadows of the chair;

And to all those who complain that his justice is unfair

He blinks his eyes

And someone dies

But he's happy now at least

He prays not for religion but he cries for the priest

His sword his sable spirit they manoeuvre high above

The night the servant is punishing the dove

And to all those who remain to soak up all his love

He looks so good

As he drinks the blood

That they offer at the feast

Then he prays not for religion but he cries for the priest

Hanging in between the abstainer and the drunk

From high upon the hill into the depths he has sunk

His cast and his Company have bundled up the trunk

And quickly found

Some higher ground

'Til the rain and the thunder have ceased

They pray not for religion but they cry for the priest

It's a bitter smoke that rises where only anger burns

No judgements are suspended no matter who adjourns

And who will feign amazement when in triumph he returns

A mere device

A sacrifice

To lay before the beast

With a prayer not for religion but a cry for the priest