The Prayer Of A Realist - G.B.H.



Original



There's no one up there there never was.

Only in vain is there a god.

There's too much suffering for him to be ..

an almighty power, a heavenly being.



My god, your god, whose god, there is no god ?



The fabric of prophet's ages old.

Drones on and gathers mould.

Gets a weekly airing from a fool on high.

Who talks and talks till his throat's dry.



A fund for a roof with a hole.

It's the money they'll save not your soul.

Persistant begging from men of the cloth.

Refuse his offer and see his wrath.



The weak ones kneel to him they pray.



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