The sepentine angel rocks the church to sleep in his chapped, blistered hands. The heats been turned up for a long winter's nap, curl up in his lap. Lucifer will sing us his lullaby.

Pastors passed out, like poppa  on Thanksgiving afternoon.  Bloated on self absorption and brimstone.  Using his calling as an alibi, he sleeps to Lucifer's lullaby.

Denomiations' dispute doctrines: compassion  gets dulled; Satan is singing, the churches are lulled. They have nothing to say when they testify, cause they've dozed off to Lucifer's Lullaby.

The song continues, please don't wake us, as the lyrics tell of how rich God will make us. Sulfur scented televangelists promise bread out of stones  THey sing, "God's role is to gratify"  in the smokey melody of Lucifer's Lullaby.

The men's fellowship is snoring to the angry shouts of boring political talking heads. Politicians promise us what God won't; their idolotrous rants amplify as they sing a verse of Lucifer's Lullaby.

Sleepwalking to concerts, youths stare at reborn celebs through drooping eyes wide shut. Going to see their idols in concert (before they deny their faith or get caught in adultery). The white noise of pop culture drowns out the still, small voice of the Spirit." We're not in the world, just of it," they justify; just another refrain of Lucifer's Lullaby.

Gossiping grannies giving out grace to the deserving only. "Can you believe what she's wearing? She definitely hasn't earned our caring." Their moral clarity restricting their charity. If you're not as pure as a Pharisee, grace will be nullified by the four part harmony of Lucifer's Lullaby. 

Like pampered toddlers, they snuggle into his fiery bosom, nursing themselves to sleep with the sour milk of comfort and security. But if our sleep goes too deep, will we ever awaken?  There are, I'm told, no alarm clocks in hell. Truthless promises of peace will ultimately terrify when we've been coaxed asleep to Lucifer's Lullaby.