Lyric Critique Oblique

Critic of the black and white
It s your first night.
The Passion Play gets in the way,
Spoils your insight.

Tell me how the baby s made,
How the lady s laid,
Why the old dogs howl with sadness.

The blue thing in the ball leaves naught but a bloody footprint on
the memory of last summer s trip to Europe

Did you buy a passport from the queen?

And your little sister s immaculate virginity wings away on the bony
shoulder of a young horse named George who stole surreptitiously
into her geography revision.
The examining body examined her body.