Saturday   I could feel the crowd's dismay   They've acquired quite a fire   To burn the profane on a funeral pyre   Voices shrill   Cutting silence like they mean to kill   Some pep rally where we scream His name   Like God was losing in a football game      I don't want to waste His name this time   I will never cast him to the swine   Grasping at some feeling you once knew   Is nothing sacred ever safe with you?      Silver tongues   All the spirit of an iron lung   Selling highs as if we needed one   Flash the lights so not to be outdone   Counterfeit   Wanting joy so much we take a hit   Like a tapeworm deep in hunger digs   Waste the sacred   Just to feed these pigs      If this is real, then you must find it   Between the space of grace and grim   It's nothing you can manufacture   Your walls cannot contain Him