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A monk with a hard on in a lavender robe |
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That scratches his thighs for the height that he strode |
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As he follows a path filled with harried desire |
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And mimics his footsteps and sets his prayers on fire |
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Glad to have chosen that which left no choice |
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To sing without loving in a solitary voice |
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To observe with passion each careful denial |
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The protrusions which give my life meaning for a while |
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Sometimes I see you in embarrasing ways |
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You're brushing your teeth with licorice seeds |
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Standing too close, holding your clothes |
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Smiling at God, the meaning of life grows |
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No, no I'll never tell and I'll never know |
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What candles you light after the show |
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And I'll never tell and I'll never ask |
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The meaning of life after mass |
