True is true, and false is false.
Take me back to the Church of my youth.
There can be found what’s needed underground,
With the old brought out instead of the new,
And tabernacle veils out in full view,
And I’m all God’s in spirit and truth
Where there’s statues on altars and flowers in bowls,
Thuribles ablaze with smoking coals,
Pretty little bells and holy water shells,
And I’m all God’s in spirit and truth.
We trusted our instructors
To maintain their integrity,
But the longer we probe, the stronger has grown
Our sense of futility.
My bones shriek out
The juggernaut rout
Of the high-minded lead we once received.
But keep searching on
And see how much has gone
Between the launching of the scam
And the bursting of the dam,
And what scope’s there now for spirit and truth
With nothing in between beyond our ken,
And nothing untoward from the huckster’s hoard,
And we’re all God’s in spirit and truth,
Spirit and truth, spirit and truth.