A cult is a club with peculiar creeps.
Leaders are lions and followers are sheep.
Charisma’s the bait with devotion as hook,
Who smile like saints and cheat like crook.
Ten percent cry on an apocalypse near
rest sell salvation but profit from fear.
Half of them gather to chant and retreat
or march by the millions on their feet.
Empires are built with sermons elite,
ninety Rolls-Royces expand the fleet.
Palaces rise to disguise strange lust
Scandals concealed with holy thrust.
A rape every sixteen minutes is seen
One in three girls before they are eighteen.
Faith mixed with poison is their dish.
Obedience garnished with cyanide swish.
Forty‑five percent exploit wallets and wills,
Demanding donations to fund leader’s thrills.
Three thousand cults in the world at large,
Every leader was a fraud on the barge.
Dragging devotion through rivers of lies,
Docking in harbors where sanity flies.