The old Gods have left.
No one believes in them any more.
One by one they slunk back to their caves,
Or wherever they came from.
No one made them sacrifices
And their altars were consigned to the museums.

Now we have new Gods
With new buildings and new altars.
They have kindly written everything down
In large books to make everything clear
And have ordered impressive buildings
Which make us feel at home.

Sacrifice is still important -
Gold, of course, and lots of blood,
It doesn't matter whose,
Theirs or yours,
Preferably the former
But enough to give everything meaning.

To obtain the impossible
We all turn to Gods of some sort
Otherwise what's the point?
Luckily for us and the Gods,
The impossible never changes.