The church is a shadowbox, who’s making the flame, makin’ the puppets.
The trees fall but make no sound, the Earth’s flat, spins round and round.
The priest is a psycho fox, who’s playing the game, cigarettes puffin’.
The lord calls the lost and found, asks if they’ve seen his Turin shroud.
The church is a shadowbox, who’s tossing the blame, and Bible thumpin’
Hymns ring, but make no sound. Their meaning is hollow now.
The priest is an astronaut, hanging by a thread, his whisky ain’t nothin’
The lord calls the lost and found, has anyone seen his thorny crown?
The church is a shadowbox, ignore the man behind the curtain.
The organ grinder makes a sound, pulpits and pews are pound for pound.
The priest is a bag of rocks, his glasses stained, the myrrh is burnin’.
The lord calls the lost and found, is the Holy Grail in town?
Lyrics, Music & Arrangement By:
© 2006 Jeremy J. dePrisco ASCAP