Memories of Ntate Moruti’s sermons,
tastes like lemons to me.
A pure man that drinks privately
but gets drunk in the eyes _____ of many.

Blinded by his collar,
A “caller” they praise him.
Came to heal and he steals,
takes our parents thoughts,
hearts and souls.
They kneel and praise him in the almighty’s name,
words that create a living hell.

Heaven is a creation.
Heaven that heals is words on paper.
Ink on paper, cleanses the soul,
more than Moruti’s sermons.