He calls himself a saint...
Poisoned by his own lust he grows faint...
He makes the altar a place of shame...
Partaking in the name without playing the game...
His gift and status, a young girl's deception...
Uncovered by her conception...
This 'priest' with a soul of charm...
Yet another prey he hunts then harm...
When the prophet rebukes...
Forsake the stubbornness of age and the folly of youth...
The fragrance of deception...
Can you tell by mere smell...
cloak-and-dagger, guileful pursuit...
He wears a lie in his profession...
That keeps him at peace without confession...
Not one with The Creator...
Rather the Deceiver...
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