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.