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