God is Good
"God is good," they cry
as they cheat and lie their way to the top of the food chain.
And they walk all over us with their big, shiny shoes
and the lace is like a noose around our necks.
"God is good," they say. "He's here.
He'll listen, he'll care. He's not going anywhere."
But where the hell am I?!
Sitting on a train station in the rain waiting for a train that will never come?
It infuses my brain
to think of such infinite things as such
and to know that no matter the cost
it will all be lost someday in the future.
"God is good," they say
when they take the boy away from his mother
and her cries can be heard from both second and third row
all the way down to seven, but she knows
she will meet him again someday in heaven
'cause God is good.
He'll listen, he'll care. He's there.
But God is not there on the Death row parade where the guards get paid to watch them suffer,
or when the last words are a lie, 'cause they can try
but their last words won't last much.
"But God is good," the mother said
as she knelt by the bed and prayed.
She prayed for her son, for whatever he'd done to deserve to be taken.
And by being taken, the boy has forsaken any chance of a prosperous life.
What were his crimes in such turbulent times, anyway?
Maybe he preferred, instead of women, a man
with a lovely tan and a well-built chest?
And who can ban a man from liking a man with a tan when we all know we all do the same?
And a well-built chest is what the rest of us prefer, anyway.
Or is that wrong?
Maybe it's been too long since we realized we're not perfect?
Maybe we're not supposed to like what we are,
'cause we're just a big, fucking scar on Nature,
and though we haven't faced extinction
we'd be better off erased than encouraged to further distinction?
It's like our race is in a race towards a goal
that more and more looks like our own annihilation.
But that's just a speculation and will require more education on the subject,
but who'd have the time?
Nature tried to present us with pride (since we're still here)
but she's cried and bled and almost died
to make our vanity seem as some sort of sanity that has made us all blue-eyed to our own
And though Nature has nurtured us from our cribs we continuously break her ribs;
we tear them apart to break her heart and expect her to give back
all that we lack to make our lives perfect.
"But God is good," they say.
Anyway, there's nothing we can do about it, more than doubt it, and make room for other things
that will come some day.
Walk your own way.
Raise your own voice.
Make your own choice.
Shine your own shoes.
Tie your own noose.
Find your own place.
Make your own space.
Walk your own way.
'Cause they say, "God is good,"
and I would kill them
if I could.