The world bloomed up bright today,

so the Devil killed the priest.

All the love in the world won't make him stay,

So serve your image, less man than beast.

'It's as macabre as hell,' warns the skin,

but so fabulous on the eye.

Express every butterfly that stirs from within,

And watch what's sacred die.

It was never be enough to simply be.

Cast out, ignore, or live up to insanity.

Perhaps it's the price we are meant to pay,

For living to see such a beautiful day.