PESTER
By Brian C. Williams
Do not pester me with faith,
I stand on my own pulpit and see time is approaching and it maybe too late,
The children can no longer cry because reality has set in,
Tears are no longer needed when it does not matter who wins,
A victory is meaningless when our leaders cheat,
Loving little Gods who eat freshly sainted meat,
Little crosses singing the songs of ever lost,
Souls and fly infested preaching to cut all their throats at a funny cost,
Line up the sinners for the winners need to gloat,
“We are the holy; We are what you will be taught.”
So rebels need to be rebelling and screamers losing their voice,
Because if we sit by as the changes walk on us,
Nothing becomes a matter of choice,
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