Iconic Saint,
Behold your gown;
You spot sinners’ stains,
Yet your white is brown.
You know the Lord’s day,
And you set it apart;
But far from the Lord’s will,
Are the thoughts of your heart!

A priest indeed,
So you claim to be,
But right in your reins
Hides the worst iniquity!
‘Twas just a night ago
That a poor boy still wept—
Because of your molestations
And the secrets to be kept!

O what an irony
Of its utmost kind,
That in the house of God
A monster should be found!
Indeed as it is written,
So must Judgement start:
From them who are the first
Down to the very last!

Iconic Saint,
The Devil’s incarnate;
Be it known to you,
That you’re hell’s candidate!
And unless you repent
And cry for forgiveness—
The sceptre is taken from you,
And given to someone else!

“Iconic Saint, the Devil’s incarnate:

when The Judgement starts, it will surely start with you!”