Jesus looking like a boy from the Hitler Youth on a stained glass window in a church on Ealing Broadway on a baking hot sunny d

Jesus with your blonde hair and blue eyes you look good up there like a boy from the Hitler Youth like a colourful propaganda poster all healthy hardy men and buxom women with thickset arms and rosy cheeks singing in the fields the harvest is plentiful and all good things around us are sent from just praise our Great Leader something about the brightness of your window clashes with the musty air and look at your strong white thighs your crown is made of shiny splinters or shards or could they be stars I don't know but everyone in here is blonde except Saint Augustine over there in the corner but he's balding anyway it is very still it feels a bit strange I thought that when I first walked in but I thought don't be silly it's fine but then again it does I'm sorry to come in here and desecrate your house with all these thoughts but you know what I'm like is that wrong I don't know if it is my sandals are squeaking on the polished stones I can smell the dust of a thousand silent words are they prayers yellowing hymn books or old skin cells I walk past George with his winning foot on the neck of a dying dragon all red and white and silver breastplate Britain never never never shall be slaves I pull the door and I am glad to be outside it is hot hot hot and people on phones walk by with sweat on their brows that night I am lying in bed trying to sleep I keep thinking about seeing you up there like that I keep thinking I've seen this bright and brittle Jesus who looks like a boy from the Hitler Youth on a stained glass window in a church on Ealing Broadway on a baking hot sunny day.