Your Taxes
Your Taxes
Reality had been run over by a car
Look and hands and feet to see the scar
There He was with arms spread out wide
On splintered cross where he was crucified.
Two other men were killed at the same time
To there name didn't have a Nichol or dime
When in heaven you will have everything
Where God's great bank is always bulging.
Why on earth would you want to stay here
Cliffs and catastrophes are always so shear
So rather then reaching a drop off point
Come to heaven a jumping and jiving joint.
All they do is much dancing and singing
And beautiful bells are constantly ringing
Won't find computers or picture of you in faxes
When troubled, God is there to pay all your taxes.
James Thomas Horn, Retired Veteran
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