Cult

Driving down my winding road
Returning to my lovely abode
A shining pink spiral minaret
Currently nothing but a silhouette
Blotting out the sun, high in the sky
Looking like it can fly
Emblazoned with these words on front:
"The Church of Gaga" (it's not a stunt)
We worship Mistress Lady Gaga, you see
And this we do with great glee
Every morning at dawn we pray
But we do this in our own way
We hum and chant and sing the songs
Everybody sings along
We sing of poker faces, of monsters, of dancing
Of telephones and bad romancing
And of course, we have darker pursuits
That trace back to religion's roots
Sacrifices, deaths for our lord
For people, you see, we can afford

One morning, while I was giving my prayer
Footsteps, I heard at our front stair
And then, a rapping, at our door
I first finished my daily chore
I got up slowly and followed the rapping
Followed the tap tap tapping
I opened the door and looked outside
I beckoned her to come inside
Then suddenly I saw her face
Then was forced to my knees by her grace
She was the one
She was our sun
A shining beacon of light to answer our prayers
A sign that our lord, in fact, cares
I timidly asked her "Gaga, ma'am, is it truly you?"
"It is I." she replied "And who are you?"
"I am the leader of our humble parish,
I hope it is one which you will cherish."
She said to me "That I do poor boy,
But I am taking over now, oh what a joy!
There will be so much more of this lovely singing.
Why, every night, our ears will be ringing!
I will rework every rule here;
Don't worry, boy, have no fear"

Within a week we were all dead tired
Our bodies needed to be rewired
But Ms. Gaga would not let that be so
She did not care about our woe
Making us dance, the evil puppeteer
Every day we were filled with fear
Dancing all day, dancing all night
None of us could put up a fight
Our sacrifices were increased tenfold
Because if we did not do as told
We were tossed into the fiery pit
Never again to escape it
As all this happened, she sat idly by
Watching as my clergy die
I knew our savior was not this vile
This fake prophet filled me with bile
I knew something must be done
Before we lost another one
No more souls could be taken by this liar
She must be thrust into the fire
But first I needed concrete proof
To show my people; they were aloof
They never suspected a single thing
I would make this bitch sing

Late one night, into her room I snuck
Praying that I had an ounce of luck
I prayed to the real Gaga for guidance and care
I heard a "whoosh" in the calm night air
And knew that I was answering my calling
And soon the imposter would be bawling
I found her purse and dug around inside
I then found proof that she had lied
Her license, you see, said an unfamiliar name
Not Stefani, or Gaga, this girl had no fame
It said "T, Jerika". The girl is a liar!
I at once went downstairs and readied the fire
Each door was locked, deadbolted shut
No one could escape our grandose hut
I awoke everyone and told them what I'd found
We agreed on putting her into the ground
Into her room we went, and grabbed her with haste
We had not a minute to waste!
We made her dance and sing for us until she grieved
And then kept her dancing until she heaved
Into an iron maiden she went
The doors were unlocked and outside she was sent
We threw the hellion into the flames
Followed by celebrations and games
People rejoiced; were happy, some cried
For our tormentor had died

A few months later, another woman came
Claiming that she was one and the same
That she was our lord
And we should believe her word
I knew that she too was not real
But still, I let her lead with zeal
I knew that our lord would enjoy this imposter
Another name to add to her sacrificial roster