this couple knocks on my door…

it isn’t the clothes that they are wearin’
– believe me, I couldn’t be carin’
it’s all that electioneerin’
my god, how I fear the god-fearin’

to spout verses they always are willin’
– such obsessions, to me are quite chillin’
as if print words condoned interferrin’
my god, how I fear the god-fearin’

they think there’s a heaven they’re earnin’ –
– if they catch me, I know I’m for burnin’
or shot like a deer in a clearin’
my god, how I fear the god-fearin’

there really’s no way of explainin’
the hatred their god’s entertainin’ –
I’m certainly not volunteerin’
my god, how I fear the god-fearin’

.

…or as Rev. Foss has written god is the war-god

.

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