Those who enter the cathedral

Through the back door
On their hands and knees
Covered in filth and fleas

And who sit in back
Shaking back and forth
Praying quietly

Tend to look up
As though their lives
Depended on it.

Because it does.

Those who enter the cathedral

Through the front door
On their own two legs
Covered in frocks and finery

And who sit in front
Heads held proud
Proclaiming loudly

Tend to look side-to-side
As though their lives
Depended on it.

Because it does.