Peter Hammill Mediaeval
God lives in the cathedral, or so the archbishop states, all fealty to the Church, all power to the state!
Gold keys to the cathedral, they go with the bishop's cowl; he lives a spiritual life of material wealth. Are things so very different now?
Oh yeah oh now: save your prayers for the future. Say your prayers for the future.
Oh, God's gone from the cathedral, a different power now holds sway, we can pack them up in the history books but the Middle Ages won't go away. And the answer to our prayers is a Valium by the bedside, now we follow the pundits on TV, now we put our faith in Science and progress and only have sex upon our knees.
And those who are strange are still locked in asylums and a sterile Pope proscribes the Pill and those who are rich are still getting richer and those who are poor still foot the bill. And God lives in underground silos, hanging on for Judgement day; if we don't open our eyes pretty soon then the Dark Ages'll be here to stay.
