Oh, those ancient, towering spires with the beautiful architecture,
And the well kept lawns, fountains and gardens,
Heavily laden with gold and carvings and statues and paintings,
Similar to or better than other castles,
Built to display power, enormous earthly power and cravings.
They were built by our sinew, our force, our subjugation
These temples, mosques and cathedrals were built by the people, built by us, built on top of us.
Our blood is still on the Floor.

And the scriptures, carefully written in orthodox tomes,
And carefully wrapped in the tight, crusty creeds to which we submit,
Mention nothing of our giving the Spirit, the Virtue to others,
As we were taught by the one we adore and worship.
They do not mention the First commandment or the Second,
All of my mind, all of my strength, all of my heart, all of my soul,
More blood on the Floor.

And God also inspired recently found scrolls and interpretations,
Telling of other followers and especially women who were there.
They were tightly laced and constricted, by abominable, power hungry, mad men,
Cowards afraid to die before the legions for their beliefs.
And the Shekinah was neutered into spirit, and carefully hidden.
When the mystics and saints came and told their story;
Of Union and Beauty and Light and Knowledge and Goodness and Truth,
They were beaten and tortured and burned at the stake,
More Blood on the Floor

And the modern corporate offices, rooms, and the beautiful architecture,
And the well kept lawns, fountains and gardens,
Heavily laden with gold and carvings and statues and paintings,
Similar to or better than other castles,
Built to display power, enormous earthly wealth and cravings.
They were built by our sinew, our force, our subjugation.
They were built by the people, built by us, built on top of us.
They were built with excessive profits withheld from our tables and pensions,
With the compelling veneer of freedom blaring from the marketer’s horn,
More Blood on the Floor

Oh those ancient, towering spires with the beautiful architecture,
And the well kept lawns, fountains and gardens,
Heavily laden with gold and carvings and statues and paintings,
Similar to or better than other castles,
Built to display power, enormous earthly power and cravings.
Built for the non-forgiving justice, to destroy any who would make a mistake and forever be cast into the living darkness.
How many homeless, poor, diseased, addicted and disenfranchised in our midst cannot get through the walls of goodness?
They were built by our sinew, our force, our subjugation
These halls of justice, and courts and government,
They were built by the people, built by us, built on top of us.
Our blood is still on the Floor.

Our soulless governments know that,
Thirty thousand per day die needlessly in hunger, disease, and poverty.
And we wage wars where we have yet to accomplish the first objective.
What about a War on Drugs?
What about a War on Poverty?
What about a War on Disease?
What about a War on Homelessness?
More blood on the Floor.