Can I ask why?
Or should bob be my job?
Howdy, see, I can be happy without
someone\'s son killing for me,
whether on a stretcher laid flat
under rotating blades of a Huey,
dying mid-air in Vietnam,
or as a P.O.W. anywhere at anytime,
or as Abe\'s burnt offering to prove my loyalty,
or armed and in harms way because someone\'s
bananas aren\'t being picked, cheap enough, yeah, we see ya.
Why did God give up, possibly, His only begotten son,
on a wooden Roman cross,
who asked who what, and how is that suppose to help?
A couple of thousand years after the fact?
I say, sarcastically, who is to choose what and when, and why?
Why not do the best that you can?
I choose to include every atom sacred,
a creed, agree or disagree?