You climbed the stairs of the pulpit, dressed as an angel of light.
You climbed the stairs of the pulpit, holding your holy book,
the book of false dreams and promises.
You climbed the stairs of the pulpit, hiding your ugly face behind the false veil of innocence and feigned naivety.
You climbed the stairs of the pulpit, as a seller of impossible hopes for the crowd crushed in souls.
You climbed the stairs of the pulpit, playing your musical instrument.
Your musical instrument which plays on the vulnerable chords of the deep wounds of the broad masses.
You climbed the stairs of the pulpit, offering your poisonous bread and tainted wine to the little children.
The little children who know next to nothing about the bitter reality of your sordid kingdoms, scattered all over the world.
You climbed the stairs of the pulpit, motivated by your eternal arrogance.
Your eternal arrogance that has shown to you that no intellect or intelligence was created to match your mind and intelligence.
You climbed the stairs of the pulpit, dressed in your best attire to impress the millions,
but unfortunately, I regret to inform you, that you forgot to hide your remarkable tail as you should.