I had a dream once,
All in black and white,
Of preachers yelling on the streets,
Screaming what was "right".
They said that it was unnatural,
That we didn't deserve to be born,
They'd rather never touch a petal,
Then prick their hand upon a thorn.
But the dream changed quickly,
So came the distortion of the colors,
Riots upon riots of red and black,
Children desperately clung to their mothers.
"Equality, peace!" We shouted,
But it seems we went unheard,
For the preachers weren't listening,
Unless it was of their antiquated "Word".
But yet the times have changed,
Much like the colors of the dream,
Instead of just one choice to take,
There are many ways to lean.
"They will burn in hell for their sins!"
The preachers will announce,
But for the former patrons of the church,
It is God who they denounce.
They say that it is only a phase,
A mistake of teenage lust,
Just because we found ourselves,
They say equality for everyone is unjust.
