They wear feathers and claim butter won´t melt
They are the latin remains of the brady bunch
The calm listeners of robot priests
The fine polished societal ornaments
The loveliest garments of your dreams
The religious obligations you secretly and purposely breach
Obsession with a White picket fenced mall
A sickening denial of all that surrounds
An idiom for this
An anecdote for that
The meaning of life intact
Mincing egos, behind ties and in frocks
Each spoilt boy and girl tip-toeing
as if goldilocks
As if their hearts were flooded with humility
establishments well stitched garments
In all holy glory of hypocrisy
In the all protective membraine of the holy spirit
As the 15th century portuguese axe opens up rivers of blood
To the modern day slum, which glittery t.v shows avoid
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