All you mask men,
Who profaned his temple,
Snarling like dogs,
Carrying sins on your lips.
You draw nearer to him,
Only when threatened by storm.
Yet your free moral agent will,
Rebelliously refuses to honor him,
And listening to your self-centeredness;
Prayer bombardment and request,
He marvels at your insincerity.
Imagine for once!
That he was mortal;
And became sick and tired of the human race,
What would his action be?
Would he head for the courts?
Of course corrupt as you are!
You’ll all attempt to pervert justice.
From the time of your earlier ancestors,
He has never been sick and tired,
About ephemeral beings.
If any genuinely turn to him,
His amazing grace is not sick and tired of forgiveness.