On a pedestal, you stand
With angels beside you playing trumpet and lyre
They'll sing hallelujah
When you smile and open your arms

And I'd say your name
A thousand times like a prayer before I sleep
Sing psalms on Sundays
Like a devotee, lifting my hands as I weep

But you were a mere god,
Pinnacled upon an altar that I made.
For a long time, I stayed
Only to be tricked and betrayed.

I once hummed along
With the angels as they sing
But an atheist came and uttered,
'Unvaried hymns are tiring.'