Peculiar: to be truly peculiar is a glorious thing
Brings joy and laughter, makes the heart sing
To be wise, you must be a fool
So let\'s raise a glass, to Him, and all his tools!
Debate: who is God, where is the divine?
What a stuff up he is!
Nothing to rhyme?
Follow all the misfiring farts, who think they are stars, their own work of art..
Not understanding the things that were told...
Of idol worship, of pagans of old..
They hoist their banners, not shamed face..
How they grind the faces of the poor, and proclaim it is grace.
But hang on-I am off on a hack!
Alert! Back-peddle... get back on track...
You can\'t fight with to many syllables..
So, just like him, he makes us invisible!
Maybe only seen by the keenest eye
One blurry night before he dies
Who knows? Who cares!
It\'s not a numbers game..
Just a hoot, as we salute, the King,
Before the grave.
Be warned then my fellows, flying foul and slippery snake..
The truth is out to get you...
It\'s not up for debate.