Losing My Religion or Poets Church of Sins

We define holy war in our wordplay.

Heaven be thy frame

Your bodice cum,

For me, as it would in his arms.

Our love making is blasphemy.

A community of happy heathens

Writhing in our sin and self-fulfillment.

If hell be a passion pit,

This be the sweet plunge to the beyond.

I swear I never knew it could get this dirty,

The wrong this right;

We write this wrong each night;

We knight each other with bones and bites.

You tight,

You right,

It’s been so long…

And so long we say to our morals.

We are the sweetest sin.

Every day, a prayer of forgiveness,

Each night, a hope to prolong the coming of our punishment.

 

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