The Gospel

In front a tall white stranger
Laughing with hatred
One of our own
An appearance gaunt and hollow
A burning spear at hand
Accompanied by heralds
In the distant horizon
Machine gun fanfares
It’s the gospel
A tall, white stranger
In his hand a long spear
At iron’s point a fire
He thrust it in my heart
Pierce my entrails
The pain’s great, I moan
I’m left on fire
I’m left on fire
It’s the gospel
A tall white stranger
Trumpets blare, a cannonade
The soul satisfied now
With nothing less than god
In front a tall white stranger
Laughing with hatred
One of our own
I’m left on fire
It’s the gospel