Ode to Glenn Schwartz

The door of the martyrs soon will be open.
The Church cannot change it, the Prophets have spoken.
All wedding vows are all being broken,
Promises, promises all empty tokens.
Images, images out of the past,
Who'll win my soul Lord, there at the last.

Fell on my knees once, it hurt so I rose
My woman, my woman dressed me up in white clothes.
She took off her ring and put it in my nose
And I follow her now wherever she goes.

But the great King of glory is calling my name
If I don't give my all soon I won't be the same.
I know what I must do Lord, kill my pride
I got no place to run to, no place to hide.
My sins are before me on the altar they lay
I know they'll destroy me--let us pray