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Chambers McLean
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Priests of the Thundering Treason
Peace for the hungry vegans,
long we're often taught,
caught in something far too easy,
wrong as like as not.
Beasts of the plundering seasons,
so it's often sun,
hung on Sunday, hoping one day,
they'll be far and flung!
My vanity,
just humanity,
but it stinks like their insanity,
I've been thinking, wild and blinking,
you've been shrunken, Son.
A feast for the hungry demons,
those who look too close,
engrossed in finding something hiding,
dig too deep, they roast!
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Well, it's gone amiss,
It's ominous,
for me it's far too onerous,
I've been waking, wild and shaking,
Now they think I'm toast.
Priests of the thundering treason,
when we've had our fill,
We'll go on or feed the lawn
and they'll be wondering still.
My deity,
let's call it gaiety,
then watch what they say to me,
One more dance, you've had your chance,
and now you'll pay your bill.
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