Poetry

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Dear Lord if you please, operate on me
cut out those little pet-peeves
Let your word search in, from top to bottom
to rid of, every kind of dease (sin)

For there be parts, that I can't see
so let your scalpel pierce each joint
Take those things, what evil does bring
Lord work on every little point

Lord I may over-look, a few hidden knooks
but you know what you did design
For you are the surgeon that sees all things
that's wrong in this soul of mine

Now there may be parts that's not in order
and they, are not working right
Then do your thing, I won't say one thing
Lord just bring it to the light

If the heads not well, you alone can tell
what's going wrong with my thoughts
And if off balance, put it back on track
for this soul you had bought

Now my heart doesn't need, a pace-maker
but, it does need to slow down
For it can run over, with bad vibes
that I don't need around

This body, sure needs an operation
so the soul can keep your peace
Doctor Jesus, stop by, my little hearts room
so these things can cease

I think my insurance is covered
for you paid the installment for me
So no worry, in how, the bill gets paid
for the service is under thee

Therefore, this soul can live forever
for your plan is safe and sound
So I can rest, and thank you for the test
and most surly for making each round

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