Yet many so many poor people to the God of their religion pray
But their God only seems to ignore them whilst they grow poorer by the day.
The children of working class parents for God and Country go to war and die
Whilst those who send them into battle the fruits of the good life enjoy
And for the brave and young fallen soldiers stirring ballads are written and sung
And they tell us that the good die noble and that only the real good die young.
And though I do fear the grim reaper the reaper I do have to admire
The reaper takes the monarch and the president, the billionaire and wealthy squire,
All people will one day be equal it’s so true what the poet
James Shirley said,
The billionaire may have the most expensive head stone but he can’t be brought back from the dead.
Perhaps I’m a cynical ratbag and perhaps for my years I’m not wise
But I’ve heard enough of propaganda and our minds have been poisoned by lies
And if God exist God is not a kind one to ignore the hungry and poor
God is for those with heaps of money and of God’s goodness I’m not so sure.