With a thimble full of bleach
And a head full of hope
I will wash away your sins
And braid scripture into your hair

A mouth twisted with spite
And a belly of butterflies
An upturned tea cup spilt on purpose
Jealous girls need no savior

Patron saint of self-mockery
Crucifix at your breast
Did you always act like this
Or is this a new development?

Sing the hymns
Loud enough for all the Gods to hear
Prove it to the naysayers
Beat them at their own game

Scarlet plumage in your hat
Lips like a revelation
You make the pulpit sweat
Sinner in the front row