When the Inquisition finds him
Talking with trees and calling the spirits of the air
They bind his hands and feet
And flog him in the public square

Assault him with scripture
And pile hot coals upon his chest
Beat him with branches
Until his sin is all confessed

And when he cries aloud
That there is one true God
They release his broken body
Bearing the wounds of Christ

But like their God, his gods
Dwell not in temples made with hands
And when the last grove is built into a church
The shrine within his heart still stands

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