The Stupid God has ever found a field
Of such sort as a fitting crop will yield
Among those whose potential's not revealed
And sows it with the laziness some praise
While they enjoy the springtime of their days
And youthful voices sullenly upraise
And while things ever have gone on this way
They confront now, not in earlier day
But now, and now is when they will allay
The hopes that generations yet to be
Will be at long last able to be free
From grip of Stupid God, unless it's we
Who work now to redeem the wayward youth
However much they seem content uncouth
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