An endless sea of malice and hate,
A canonized man sits upright and straight,
Graffiti with age, an unstoppable rage,
He cries, and he waits, he debates his faith.
He cant stop thinking of that fateful night,
A girl on a road jumped up passed his sight,
He had lost control, and jumped up in a fright,
He sits alone thinking with a bottle, and knife.
The harsh word faith played over and over,
A strong siege of doubt runs up past his shoulder,
He runs from it, but cant help but fall over,
A saint, but no longer a saint-
A loss of religion...
