Righteous Always

Sunday morning, they are sure to chant their
Hallelujah to the heavens they abhor
pockets full of change beneath the silk ties

Lunch with their friends in three piece suits
a bulge under the jacket to hide the Glock
the idol they worship more than their god.

It won't be long until evening when they repeat
the mascarade perfected for generations
hugging the weapons they need to feel warm

Days pass quickly to Wednesday eve
so well-rehearsed they are now like robots
made of flesh made of steel cold as ice.

Faithful churchgoers with their m15s
what's a life to them when it is others who die
suffering under the fire of their own friends.

Sacred are their guns holy are lives
so long as they remain untouched
by the evil they feed with their daily lust