Though now an orange face Stupid God wears,
Speaking lies about which no one cares,
It seems, and from abuse, nobody spares,
It has worn crowns, not just the over-combed,
And wallowed in the mire. It's often homed
In houses of worship, spired and domed,
And within iv'ry towers it is found
That stand aloof from towns that them surround
And with them seek to find no common ground.
There is no place the Stupid God can't reach,
And hardly student it won't gladly teach.
Resisting it must fall to every, each,
And not all to resist have what it takes--
Yet they it must, and we, find for all sakes.
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