Help Yourself
He created us flawed, then tells us he's God/
So why trust us with the bible?
He says that we're sin, yet in the image of him/
so how are we liable?
Greetings from your children,
letting you know we're here/
Could we come see heaven,
Our picture isn't clear/
Hopeful, we ask of you,
Can we have a glimpse?
Why does every priest I ask,
just turn and wince?/
All knowing and true, all powerful too,
But somehow hell awaits us/
Gave an angel the shoe, he's got a grudge against you/
But let him live 'just because'/
Have we had a lapse,
in a past-life perhaps?
We tend to irk you?
Why make us with hate,
why does it feel great,
To bluntly curse you?
Greetings from your children,
letting you know we hear/
We don't want your heaven,
Our picture of it's clear/
Hopeful, we ask of you,
Let us heal our own limps/
your crutch is obsolete,
Just Let the word leave your lips/
Let your holey words,
Forever leave our shelves/
For god only helps,
Those who help themselves/
Copyright © Bo Vigoren | Year Posted 2016
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