Archive for April, 2016

From Petrograd to Quito, from Yonkers to Siam,
The old man in his bath-chair, the baby in her pram,
I'll let the people know and make them understand
What a mercy-filled and loving, caring deity I am.

First I'll damn 'em all to Hell for things they never done,
Hold that rifle to their heads awhile, then uncock the gun.
When I'm sure they know that there's no place to hide or run;
I'll show 'em I'm a loving god, by torturing my son.

Through pain and gushing blood my divinity will shine;
A beacon to the people, to let 'em know they're mine
To do with as it pleases me, but that I'm of a mind
That should they pray to me alone, I'll forgive 'em for my crimes.



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