Call myself a Christian,
what the *******!
If Azrael was to get up close,
Then to God He'd run and tell.
"Father, goodness check this one,
something is wrong and needs to be done!
He wears red nail varnish and sings to the dead,
with powerful women alluring his head!
Death Metal songs, Pagan best friend,
flippant poems, the list won't end.
The lost soul should be flogged and hung,
he listens to Camel and Neil Young!
I caught him missing church last week,
his doubts are strong and will is weak.
His other best friend is an Angel he says,
he's seen Her pure light, the love in her gaze
And then there's the spirits, the circles the mirror,
and he says it all works, oh my what a horror!
Just to love Jesus is never enough,
can't tolerate all of his poetry stuff.
Won't you send him a plague, or a bolt from the blue?
There must be some kind of way to get through!"
The Good Lord will pause, says"Azrael you pratt!
It's only Jeremiah, the skinny welsh ****!"