Every blessed little girl
Is nothing but a scam
And every little white pearl
Is always just a clam
Bloody nasty history
Can never tell the truth
Every little mystery
Just needs a perfect sleuth
To foil and unravel
A good man's perfect name
And all the gritty gravel
Can cover up his game
Little Christs uncrucified
Are always looking back
Endless myths producified
Will always make them crack
What's the point in trying it
When God will disagree
What's the point in buying it
When you can't pay the fee?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This one's a bit confusing... I'll clear up the meaning. In my community, there's a lot of fanatacism amongst teenage girls concerning Christian abstinence groups, 'purity' rings, and other nonsense. Though I do my best to follow Christian doctrine, I believe that, as illustrated in the above sentence, the 'purity movement' is absolute cult-ish nonsense, woshipping the man-made concept of 'purity' rather than God. This poem illustrates this belief.