Believe It Or Else. . .

Say a prayer to the right red herring;

bow your head and close your eyes:

aren’t you ashamed to be alive?

Lick the boots of the Creator,

serve him, ever be his waiter.

Question not his savage ways;

stroke his ego all your days.

For the Lord is yours to keep

as you bleat just like a sheep.

(He wants your soul–his love comes cheap.)

A certain feverish obedience

keeps people limiting their ingredients;

life’s banquet now they’re lacking.

The church your appetite keeps attacking;

in case you feel a missing need–

fear not–we own the holy seed.

The tempest we hold in contempt;

temptation thou shalt not attempt.

When you’re led, you cannot think,

The blood of Christ your only drink.


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