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Here they gather, the weak, the weird, the deformed,
They sing a gospel no-one else wants to ear.
Tree stumps, moss and an old ruin,
Nowhere else are they welcomed.

But here they pray and rest, tired minds and bodies
An unfrocked priest leads the mass,
Obscene from afar, but moving from within,
The outcasts finally have a home.

They worship a strange and ancient god,
Cast-away and forgotten, just like them.
To conceal the ugliness, they light no candles,
But a vibrant inner fire still warms their hearts.

Freaks and devils, joining hands,
Burning a reeking incense,
They know their day will come,
When the light will finally shine for them.

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