In bibles tall like rubber balls in flight,
Where rules like jewels transfix our wandering eyes,
We lock away our disarray from sight,
Then drool like fools with sweaty palms and sighs. A stolen watch, a swollen crotch, what shame!
A slight-of-hand, no wedding band, swilled gin;
A rendezvous, a lie or two, false blame,
A testament to pesky little sins. But I will die one day for something less,
No priests in gowns, just men with frowns to wake;
For in my heart our lives depart, confess,
To slaughter all, the weak, the small, forsake. Plants to asphalt, creatures chewed in maw,
These pesky little sins of Natural Law.