Naive

Religion is a breeding ground
 Where the devil's work is deeply found
 With teeth as sharp as cathedral spires
 Slowly sinking in
 God knows that I've been naïve
 But I think it makes him proud of me
 Now it's so hard to separate
 My disappointments from his Name
 Because shadows stretch behind the truth
 Where stained glass offers broken clues
 And fear ties knots and pulls them tight
 It leaves us paralyzed
 But in the end such tired words will rest
 The truth will reroute the narrow things they've said
 The marionette strings will lower and untie
 And out of the ashes, love will be realized
 God knows that we've been naive
 And a bit nearsighted, to say the least
 It's broken glass at children's feet
 That gets swept aside unexpectedly