My eyes see great evil, in the pews and the pulpit,
Why hypocrisy when you preach to nations?
Truth remains untold while fiction you spit
See our revered deacon; in secret courtship,
He kisses bottle of gin before service
Yet he lifts Holy hands to worship
Not a drop of remorse in his heart’s crevice
Come…can you not see Elder Ogini’
Grayed hair bespeaks wisdom they say
But Elder chases skirts with his Lambogini
Come Sunday, he’ll shout “let us pray”
Have you heard the untold story
Locked in the closets of the Holy sisters
They’ll say to you, “be ye Holy”
While they carry the seed of sainted ministers
See the one that leads the flock – Daddy Pastor,
Dancing around with offerings and tithes
Our hands are factories, his pockets the store
His Holy hands are busy anointing tights
What is the future, when in the church,
Everything has fallen apart this Much?
Written by: Adedayo Adeyemi Agara
Edited by: Kukogho Iruesiri Samson
I am a member of the WRR editorial team.