(Verse 1)
The preacher left, the service done,
Beneath the setting western sun.
A wafer cold, a disc so dry,
A fragile symbol 'neath the sky.
Elara's soul, it yearned for more,
Than dust and dryness at the door.
She sought a grace that she could feel,
A faith that nourishment could reveal.
(Chorus)
From fire and fat, a truth arose!
A sacred warmth her spirit knows!
The Holy Crunch, a joyful sound,
On consecrated, hallowed ground!
The mundane lifted, blessed, made new,
The Crisped Consecration, fresh and true!
(Verse 2)
With trembling hand, she took the sign,
And looked to see a truth divine.
She did not place it on the tongue,
But where the skillet's song was sung.
Into the bubbling, heated fat,
A new creation, after that.
It sizzled, swelled, it puffed and grew,
A golden wonder, fresh and new.
(Chorus)
(Verse 3)
She lifted it, so warm and bright,
A glistening morsel of pure light.
A peace she'd never known before,
Came rushing through the open door.
Her soul was filled, her spirit fed,
With living grace, the Lord's own bread.
"The Crisped Consecration," she declared,
"The Holy Crunch!" her heart laid bared.
(Chorus)