Sun Cult

We live in a sun cult.
The obelisks have been uprooted.
The mummies burned away or buried.
The pharoahs dead, the high priests gone.
And yet the sun still rises.

The stunted men will writhe and cry.
The sun god turns a baleful eye.
We mime the rites of ages past.
And no one has to die.

We live in a sun cult.
The trappings have faded.
The world worships in private.
The moon recieves more screen time.
And yet the sun still rises.

The stunted women ask us why.
The sun goes down and races by.
We mime the sickness of the day.
And no one has to cry.