Shepard in a field,
crucified upon a wooden fence
Your grieving flock was scattered
worldly
Liberty's book was swiftly plunged into
the blood of bigotry
Fascism laughed in tones of red, white and blue
Land where our fathers died
Land where our bigots hide
I say to you Amen...
I love Jesus;
you must too
resounded these hollow
words
Hate is now the doctrine
intertwined morph-boiled into fear and hate,
being poured over enlightenment
in destruction of green lands
engulfing
youthful sprouts
in destructive steamy waters
The book of Leviticus
is the demise of reason
fractured from critical thinking;
allocated to the current pulped-swine,
swaying in hypnosis listeners of these pulpit-swine-beasts;
they embark with twisted trepidation's disdain
Shepard in other fields of life
into brute submissions
you will succumb being baptised
in your own red pools,
being smitten by the pulpit-swine-listners
of ancient prophets
The dirge, the slow dirge is heard
throughout our delicate land
Ooh sweet brilliant Oscar, we still suffer
as you had
my brilliant Irish lad
I love Jesus
you
must too
My country tis not for me
sweet land of bigotry
to thee I sing, to thee I sing...
Sep 4, 2014
Sep 4, 2014 at 6:57 PM UTC
Shepard in a field,
crucified upon a wooden fence
Your grieving flock was scattered
worldly
Liberty's book was swiftly plunged into
the blood of bigotry
Fascism laughed in tones of red, white and blue
Land where our fathers died
Land where our bigots hide
I say to you Amen...
I love Jesus;
you must too
resounded these hollow
words
Hate is now the doctrine
intertwined morph-boiled into fear and hate,
being poured over enlightenment
in destruction of green lands
engulfing
youthful sprouts
in destructive steamy waters
The book of Leviticus
is the demise of reason
fractured from critical thinking;
allocated to the current pulped-swine,
swaying in hypnosis listeners of these pulpit-swine-beasts;
they embark with twisted trepidation's disdain
Shepard in other fields of life
into brute submissions
you will succumb being baptised
in your own red pools,
being smitten by the pulpit-swine-listners
of ancient prophets
The dirge, the slow dirge is heard
throughout our delicate land
Ooh sweet brilliant Oscar, we still suffer
as you had
my brilliant Irish lad
I love Jesus
you
must too
My country tis not for me
sweet land of bigotry
to thee I sing, to thee I sing...
