Isaiah. Chapter Two. Verse 7.
The endless line of chariots that snake along the road,
That take us to our idols stamped with sinister barcode;
On Sundays, see the people massed for pleasure and for gain,
Looking for a bargain, throwing silver down the drain.
Save me, Lord, from chariots that run amuck --my peace
Is only found in Sabbath airs that bless and never cease.
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