People file up and kneel down
(sought is transubstantiation)…
bread and wine, a single round
(gloggin’ cup and pan gustation).
Sure hope that bread’s got no mold
(wanted: the flour’s preservation);
wish that sangre were a bit cold
(not lots of refrigeration!)
This is transfiguration;
it’s transubstantiation. Tasty?

Those wafers taste just like clay
(talkin’ earth evacuation)
that you might go dig next to the bay
(adjacent to inundation).
They are tryin’ to cause a big salvation
(talkin’ upward navigation).
They’re just talkin’ ’bout transfiguration
(gone to transubstantiation).
This is transfiguration;
it’s transubstantiation. Tasty?

Those wafers taste like mâche
(talkin’ print alimentation)
that’s fabricated from papier—
talkin’ ’bout old publications,
some of which go all in for big sensations,
e.g., Kardashian nation
(we’re talkin’ ’bout waste-time occasions).
I’d find a new avocation.
That ain’t transfiguration;
that’s prime-time situations wasted.

People file in and sit down
(sought’s brainpan evacuation),
watch the Kardashian clowns—
I’d rather head to the stations,
find the man who sports the stole
(frockin’ ’round lord’s habitation),
then apply the stories I’m told
(talkin’ like reincarnation).
Sought is transfiguration;
either that or a channel changing.