She played a ‘caster for a pastor in Brooklyn
Who televised The Fear to the meek.
She spoke to the bloke and said, “Hey man..
Your disdain puts a strain on my technique.”
She took her Tele’ to New Delhi to practice,
Ended up as a backup performer.
She got into all that Hindu but the fact is
Stunk the same, that disdain but just warmer.
So that cat took her Strat’ to the Near East.
Found her gender an offender to rock.
Every move to a groove harshly policed,
No touring, too alluring out of wedlock.
Then with her axe to chillax back to the ‘States:
“No more churches, no more temples or that breed.
I’m gonna play, break away from the cellmates,
Tax-exempt for their contempt and for their greed.”
So the lesson that she’s pressin’, sweet dissenter,
A music-driven moral if you will:
Don’t need clergy ‘cause the music IS the mentor,
And it won’t swipe your last ten dollar bill.
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