Head Trip ~ Brent Harris

Find, for me, a small and petty god
One grown right from my local sod
Who, as me, thinks, acts and looks
Who can be branded by the books

A proper deity, for me, should sate
The horded hunger I have for hate
Teach spare the rod, spoil the child
Make my wife abide meek and mild

And put those I decree in their place
All of those who do not wear my face
Who sing or dance to different tunes
Pursue illicit love under other moons

My god sanctions just my wants, likes
No communists, foreigners or dykes
Minute enough to fit inside my head
To keep my prejudices constantly fed

I do not want a god I can’t understand
Grasps galaxies as mere grains of sand
My god sees all, for what that is worth
As long as all only concerns the Earth

Because my god all my actions justifies
Wreck it all, no matter who or what dies
If all of my manifold sins I then repent
I will be forgiven before to heaven sent