Well, America, I’ll tell you:
Religion for me ain’t been no picnic.
It’s had ticks,
And ants,
And grass deathly-brown---
Dead.
But through the years
I’ve been a-skatin’ on,
And fashioning circles,
And cheating God,
And sometimes drinking secrets of the dark
Void of compassion.
So, America, keep your backs against the wall.
Don’t rock your babies upon the knees of strangers
‘Cause you’ll find it’s quite careless.
Don’t you...
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