Lyrics Holy Toast - AllttA, 20 SYL, Mr. J. Medeiros

Holy Toast

In people without religion
In steeples crowded with pigeons
In visions of evil
Through the key hole out of the prison
Without a decision, fishing, in a father that listens
In a tower, around a collar, in Obama’s position
For the power, dollars, division, and the honor it’s given
In a martyr, in women, in Shawn Carter, in all children
Shrouded in Turin
Burning in shrubs, learning to love, rounding a turban
On the curb, in the club with a bourbon and drunk
In sermons, in a permanent slump determined to flunk
As a vermin making earnings from trunks
Serving the junks
Cus I need Him most, bleeding on the cement
In a sea of demons- beaming
Being treated with a chemo dose
Seated with a vino within a scene of latinos
He was seen hosting a feast in His medieval clothes
Cleaning all our feet with soap, speaking to ghosts
Leading a pope, beaten and broke
Even on a piece of toast
And He the most eaten with the least
In a fetus, in a golden fleece
Meeting with the chief, with elitists
In a genius, when that athlete was defeated
In the math, in an atom blast, every time my team wins
To hide a lie and to achieve spins
For me to be idolized, on a drive, for my own reasons
Because they tell me it’s a lesson in our rebirth
Because in hell our breath burns and our knees hurt
Because we know He knelt with lepers and freed serfs
Because it helps sell records and t-shirts
Books, hats, stickers, sweaters, and knee skirts
And in good, bad, and indifferent weather I see works
In the hood tatted, with little help from the priest circuit
In the woods, mad at belief, and a tree serpent
And where the church is, and the worst is
These surface statements lead’em to a basement where they hurt kids
Sure did, burning the earth, cursed, learning to surf
First, with a thirst, and this myrrh
He was bursting from a nova, surfacing from a coma
Said the person who rolled up cursing his melanoma
When I was worthy to no one and now I’m worthy to know Him
With iron sharpening iron with fire, lions, and sultans
Admired, tired, with liars, with friars, choirs exalting
And now I’m revolting, as a squire, high in the vaulted ceilings
In kneeling, bent in a tent begging for healing
Wheeling and dealing, begging for rent, ain’t that appealing
At least’s that’s what he said before his hands started feeling
So the yeast ain’t in my bread to recall the land I am free from
And He is just one and He’s all three
Calling me to give some love to teens with palsy
As seen on TV, we sing till all free
As seen with three Kings, so bring some offerings
Think
Is it a cult of personality
A cultural excursion, multiverse, a formality
The bulk of all our worth a sullied earth an abnormality
A skull for every version a person who passes casually
Calloused at birth an Alice in search of causality
Plausible audible now are all called applaudable
Shouting like Roland Orzabal will all fall like quarters in ears
If you doubting the magician is here
Listen if you can hear to the heart of it all
To the subtle consciousness that has started it all
To the chart on the wall even to the art of the fall
Reaching to the bark was the arch of it all
Reaching to the bark was the arch of it all
Reaching to the bark was the arch of it all
Reaching to the bark was the arch of it all