Words verbose, gory to what end do they serve? Or images vivid scarlet horrors absurd Of shrieking sounds that evoke the legions of hell The notes that you choose and the beats that you sell
You're not giving all the glory to Him Because your artwork depicts a severed limb And all the people buy into your deceit Because you're keeping way too frantic a beat They said to Bach three hundred years ago You work in the church there's something you should know
We hired you to write music that glorifies But these toccatas and fugues just simply horrify He said, they're simply notes put together in bars And why you think that's wrong I just throw up my arms
Eviscerate words that evoke emetic thoughts Dissect and discard what speaks of corpses in rot The leprous stumps of the sick and the lame The stoning of Stephen, Job's scab covered frame And John the Baptist - a head on a pletter Remove this gorefest - why should it matter?
You say this pace beckons evil spirits But I care not what you call it To me it's two hundred beats per minute On tablature I scrawled it
If you arrived at the site Of Calvary's scarlet fright Would fears have made your feet take flight And turn away from our Lord's plight