Where the material, non-judgmental
God who smooths our toil, makes us more useful
And lets us do whatever we want to
Nonetheless takes offense when we question
Theories of the divinity of tricks
And the short-term need for slavery, the fix
That is always just ahead, the engine
Inevitable, for it's who we are,
What we need, the common dominator,
The body freed from pain, the mind from care,
That there's nothing we were put on earth for
No matter how much meaning our prayer
Charges our hands, there's just door after door.
