At the funeral of our generation,
We mourn the loss of our own,
But lift high their pride in exultation,
And rejoice that they all died alone.
Their hearts had grown out of proportion,
Too big to fit inside their chests;
Unresponsive to defibrillation,
Lost to cardiac arrest.
And we all cry, “Hallelujah”?
At the funeral of our generation,
A hymn is sung for those few proud
Who, in secular sanctification,
Spilt their blood and died to win the crowd.
"All hail the Saints of our great nation!
They've given us our crutches back;
The pinnacles of pasteurization,
They've made our milk nonfat!
Hallelujah, hallelujah!"
At the funeral of our generation,
The eulogy brings us all to tears
Over the heathen proliferation
We've loved to hate for years.
In a grand miscommunication,
Sovereign stomachs rule minds amiss.
Destroyed by lustful fornication,
Just missed joy in coital bliss.
Why do we cry, "Hallelujah"?
At the funeral of our generation,
Somber smiles trade for happy frowns.
And our shepherd, in his mild frustration,
Throws his pulpit to the ground.
As the symbol of our desecration
Is smashed beyond repair or mend,
He's baffled why, like carnal duration,
The climax was our end.
"Hallelujah, hallelujah!"
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3 comments:
wow, garrett. is this a part of your great epic work that will change the world?
it's certainly of that caliber...i thought you'd hit your limit with theatre, but i guess i was mistaken. :)
Haha, yes, this will hopefully be a part of that "great epic" that I'm currently working on...though whether or not it changes the world will depend on whether or not the world (as well as Jesus) wants it to, I suppose, haha. Thank you for the compliment, though, and I'm glad you enjoyed the play as well. :)
I really enjoyed this Garrett=)
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