Oh what a joy,
To be a God.
The tips of your fingers buzz with electricity and the whites of your eyes with lithium,
Your teeth are scarred with war and your skin is stained with famine.
Oh, what a wonder!
To be a God,
Wine pours out of flowers,
Sweet as gold and as filling as a meal,
Like blood fermenting in mud on a battlefield that was blessed in your name.
Oh how delightful,
To be a God.
To create man,
Fair, kind and just;
Compassionate and passionate, relentless and corrupt like a plague that sickens the dirt and spreads to crops.
Oh what a blessing,
To be a God.
Your bones do not break, your body doesn't bleed,
But you bruise,
oh how you bruise.
At every curse hurled at you by a dying man,
In agony and seething with a rage only a God can carry.
Oh what a boon,
To be a God.
Your holy war puts cracks into the earth and gashes in my sides - my ribs are crushed from the weight!
You damned and foolish humans think I have the power to control,
Oh but how wrong you are.
There is no order to this fuckery.
I have no control. . .
