The Holy are such a bore

I must forget faith in those whose souls have risen
above this earth into the greater, unknown, heavens.
Where the holy live who are all a bore to know.
For the lives they all lived were prudent to none
and I mean this not as if a wise man had song.
For cautiousness may have got them into heaven,
or their belief may be useless, nothing more than man.
Left merely to rot within the earths tomb of the damned,
where their life was merely the one they had at hand.

And I must forget the immortal beings of the damned.
Who's lives of pleasure left them forever ruined.
For these are the men I know and wish to coincide.
If they are to be cast down into eternal parole
their doomed fate to ache lay as my own.
For they are a delight to dabble with one another,
But, alas, they are all shills doomed for their thrills.
They're rebels and rouges that know no gods at all
As am I to care less if eternal parole be my fall