I like your world, God, but I do not like your people
I suppose it’s a problem of personal taste more than a problem of evil
The beautiful world is ruined by the people and mirrors I pass
So much to delight in all around us
But all we want
****, **** and ***

Why did you leave the garden, God?
I wish that you had stayed
Left on our own all we care about
Is getting paid and getting laid