I am the lord God, put none before me Yet which faith, should a man hope to follow Only the prophets can lead us to thee Mere men’s words to lay fallow, and hollow
The Puritans sailed in sixteen twenty Pilgrims, escaping their persecution Virgin lands, promising life aplenty And where their God gives all absolution As the ship docks, it becomes us and them
Of God and his ways, I grow so weary People say’ without beginning or end Transcending time, one hell of a theory One which only blinkered faith can defend Superstitious days of revelation
As I dug the soil so firm By mistake, I chopped a lonely worm Now in two, one half and another Not so lonely, he has a brother I picked up both halves, gently kissed them