The Papal fairytale
From Boca Junior to Papacy
The supposed shepherd of the church
A street fighter of social justice
Rests as aloof of common man
As Nero was, with the fiddle in his hand
No chamber or secret room in the Vatican
Can ever relegate a chamber in the human heart
To the worthlessness of silence
The primeval voice of reason
Loggerheads of prelude with aftermath
War of merit against vice
An echo that has no founding percussion
Yet reverberates through the walls
Of an enclosed soul, to make man his own pope
Of a mighty cathedral of flesh.


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