High regard

I held you there

As on a selfie stick

And you are quite a talent

Warmly warmly

Such an innocent season

And I loved you

Through the tabloids

Because I thought it sad

That the commonality of sin

That banner over the pulpit

Was seen as yours alone

But you skyrocketed nothing

You used universal urges

Like we all did

But you had a bigger stage

So you were crucified

With our nails

And you were classy

Not afraid to say

It’s none of your business

And that was not satisfying

Which is the richest and most damning

Indictment of us all