The Pope pleaded "pity the pedophile priests;
Protect the poor padres, please pray"
They've sinned, but since Eden, we're nothing but beasts
These men--why, they're victims, I say
It's Satan, or sickness, not something they choose
When they lust after children, God knows
They're clearly as blameless as Holocaust Jews
(As the rhetoric reaches new lows)
With your staff and your ring, with your mitre and cape,
And with millions that heed your command
This is not just P.R.; this is forcible rape--
What's the part that you don't understand?
The fact that your coverup now comes to light
Has you pacing the Vatican floors--
And the grim realization must fill you with fright:
These sins are not Adam's; they're yours
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Shakespeare gets the last laugh on human sexuality:
Call it not love for Love to heaven is fled
Since sweating lust on earth usurped his name.
Under whose simple semblance man has fed,
upon fresh beauty blotting it with blame,
which the hot tyrant stains and soon bereaves
as caterpillars do the tender leaves.
Love comforteth like sunshine after rain,
while lusts effect is tempest after sun.
Love's gentle spring doth always fresh remain,
lust's winter comes ere summer half be done.
Love surfeits not, lust like a glutton dies,
Love is all truth, lust full of forged lies.
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