Index 
Sin
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Our prisons bulge as sin spills from our cities doors. But sin so evil it must be cured, in sovereign nations far away. For sin beware, virtue in love marches strong for all imprisoned souls. Freedom is its call, yet death is its trade-in-ware. Rights of men before, now rights of women more. And rights of gays that cannot play in God’s eternal play. Surfeits of care for cupboard bare that blemish the world about. Carried on the mightiest sword the world might ever know. All the while, shouting down the sins of morality past. The Pope must die, civility live, and God’s will finally be done. The army of fear marches under the banner of surfeits of care. None blessed more than others in God’s eternal care. So all are cursed alike for like and in our hearts we know. So supplication is all remaining to win the will of God. More good to do, more sin to slay, in hope of God’s good notice. And if God not notice, perhaps men will and together join a plea. So onward Army, with my Karma forge our swords. And with my gifts so help imprisoned souls. Slay the sin, let all know I pay and pray for God’s good works. |