Why do I yet, and with regret,
Scream up into the sky
When few will hear them, loud and clear,
My words that will decry
High folly’s work, done by each jerk
That Stupid God applies
To wicked tasks? It only asks
To reason’s work belie.
Perhaps we see thus how in me
Does Stupid God reside,
And if it is--and, o!, it is--
Well may great woe betide.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment