Dogma

If you assign to the becoming of chance
A causal twist, supernatural and certified
Your medieval dream must be happy
Dogmatizing a trivial and reserved world
To make normal the abnormal
To see oneself as devoted
Towards an ideal made to manipulate

And how cheap it is to achieve eternity today
You just have to pray, play dumb, and look the other way
When something is wrong
Maybe those souls don't usually pray
Or maybe humanity in its mission is nothing more than a postcard
From that place of communal love

Compassionate kindness
Where millions can barely breathe
A god who prays to capital and numbs one's own will
And so gives us charity

And it's the dogma that makes you like this
It leads you to imagine that in one more alms
There's your ticket to the other side
In such a subtle pact
That gives each their place
The giver will always give and the one who asks remains trapped
In a spiritual spiral of an inhumane system
That is the postcard
From that place of communal love