The day the Church dies there will be no sounds of joy among the godless:
No horns blown or parades thrown,
Rejoicing in the streets or marching to the beat,
No angels from Heaven to smite us down,
No Devil to laugh at our descent.
The end of the world will still belong to the sun,
When the Church takes its final breath
On a day no different than today
In a world with problems unfit for gods.
Where a frock is suitable only for Halloween;
A relic of a belief system long since past
And those that cling to it still are regarded
Like a monkey in a zoo,
Held for amusement. "They'll do a trick if you give them a cracker."
The last of the Vatican, claiming persecution
Will hole themselves inside their little cage
As the world watches on
With little more than a passing interest
At the raid
By citizens of a new world.
A world whose seeds were planted in this decade,
And whose fruit will rise to redeem the souls of humanity
Disbanding voodoo as an excuse for a crime.
And the sun will rise the next day,
And 9,125,000,000 days after that,
Whether we're here or not.
The day the Catholic Church dies
My lifeless carcass will permit itself
A small smile.