There once were things to talk about.

On a Sunday.
One gave a feather
The other gave a finger.

Give it for nothing.
(Smile for the camera!)

Loving a God like
Thing; is it real?
Is God a friend,
Or a burning bush?
Like the end I've split
I forgot how to end it. . .
That's my luck.

Oh, I gave you a chance
And you said, "God, not again."

But, you know I can't dance
Well enough, on to the next one!

But where are you now?
I question.

There has been
*One too many. . .