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Born among the famished mass,

Who live their lives of suffering

Counted blessed by holy men,

Who need or want for nothing

If promises were nourishment,

If one could eat the lies

No children left to poverty,

No quiet millions dying

Prayers mean nothing,

Holy light is not for all

Prayers for the dying,

The huddled starving cold

Houses of god,

Stab high towards the stars

Houses of god,

Nourished by the holy promise

Covet not your treasure,

Where moth and rust destroy

Offer your possessions,

End suffering of all

When prayer fails,

Some live – some die

When light fades,

Steeples black the sky

When prayer fails,

Some live – some die

Reject they,

Who dwell beyond the shepherds flock

Condemning the eternal,

For the sake of temporal things

The church justifies it wealth,

For the faithful it draws in

Through charity of the righteous,

The giving congregation,

Free of tax, free of morals,

Poverty of soul

Prayers mean nothing,

Holy light is not for all

Prayers for the dying,

The huddled starving cold

Houses of god,

Stab high towards the stars

Houses of god,

Nourished by the holy promise

The lord’s house of prayer,

Is made a den of robbers

Gathered wealth and hoarded gold,

Bloated holy excess

When prayer fails,

Some live – some die

When light fades,

Steeples black the sky

When prayer fails,

Some live – some die

Reject they,

Who dwell beyond the shepherds flock

Suffer, starve, die

In the sign of god’s house

Tearing at the sky

A mocking vision of cruelty,

And greed, and wealth, and prosperity, and lies, and death

Gospel verses cast aside,

Within the tax free walls

Imagined cries of anguished dead,

Among the gilded halls

In service of self,

Denial of their daily bread

Obscene wealth is closely kept,

And vulgar wealth is flaunted

Turn out, collection plates,

Liquify the holy stores of god

Still they suffer

Lead (bartley)