There is no Makers formula This life depends on chance, The way you play your given cards Depicts your daily dance.
Oh dogma flows in utterance From pulpits far and wide From those who claim to understand Eternity's vast hide. From those who hold damnation As a weapon from on high, From those who claim a judgement As their finger points to sky. The good, the bad are absolute, The right bedevils wrong, Redeemed shall live eternally The bad shall singe for long.
Old men stand in pulpits Across this Sunday's land To threaten with damnation If you should cross God's hand. "Belief" is now their catchword Abomination's wrong Is to seek to proffer proof of claim ....to Sing the Devil's Song.
So gather all ye faithfull Go listen to your man, Sing the Gospel loud and long And pay your tithe, as planned. ...But should you find you're dying From cancer's frozen claw And the the Godly fail to sweep you To eternity's gold door? Remember my clear message Your life depends on chance, You live within your own good sphere ....There is no Maker's Dance.
Marshalg After an overdose of Pulpit hogwash. 10 March 2013
An assignation of confirmation. A definitive repost. M.