I grew up in a house of deep religion,
Amongst Soprano hymns and murmured prayers,
Candle light shone at night,
A beacon of un-extinguished hope,
Simple life; simple folk.
But never one for me.
Sitting in quiet church pews,
Religiously we attend,
Gasping, open hearts agree with every phrase
Of the esteemed teacher and fellow brethren.
Whom never appealed to me.
Camps of faith, youth dressed appropriately,
Laws & values & guiltiness guidelines,
But never much deep thinking, really.
Weird to me; I don't agree.
My companions think that strange.
Proper white weddings,
Helpers on the streets,
Mission teams; miracles and tears,
Excuse me, but Alto's all I sing.
So I choose to leave this house on rock,
Cast away the net.
No sighing or wailing or deem me failing,
For I've put more thought in leaving,
Than I ever did in staying.
I'll stick to my own science,
Shaped by my own ideas and philosophy,
And ostracised I know I'll be,
The only ever absentee,
Cast off and alone.
But I'm a student of independence and antigen,
I've never been a good fisher of men.
And thought females supreme,
Or at least equal.
So don't search for me on my knees,
Lest I be mending broken bone.
Any pack on my back will simply be my own.
Candle light is just right for shaping molten stone.
As for fish and all the rest,
I'll be sitting on my throne.
