It’s another god to whom I speak,
without the mayhem the others wreak.
My god I find’s a gentle soul
who only wants to make us whole.
There is no care of rule or law
and certainly no thing called “war.”
So it’s not the god of today’s rule;
I think that one’s a total fool.
My god, I think’s from days long past
when Earth was young, not dying fast.
Not ruled over by an unruly host
who think a god’s some kind of ghost,
or someone who aims for victory
enslaving folk who should be free.
So when I hear my own god talk
I know he’ll always walk the walk
The spoken words will be for all
and never be a ‘to arms’ call.
Doin’ Stuff stuff