Petrificada Poem by Nicholas Neato

We watch the bridges
As they all turn to ash
While being baptized in the river
By the hand that begs for cash

Now I'm failing to see
The better part of this

You might break my customs
You'll never break me
I've longed for this sound
Such a glorious sight to see
Faith, Courage, and Insight
Something so keen

When that Preachers speaks
They'll rest with ease
Boy when that Preacher preachers
You'd better be on them knees

Ain't that the truth?
Or is it?