America, oh, America Land of the once free Home of the formerly brave Storms at your gate Blazing sun, wind blown fires Still you are proud Beat your chest will you? Fight those God empowered to wound you? To wake you from your insanity? Still you murder your babies For money, for convenience And those who would lead Like boys in the school restroom Brag of who has better hair The Almighty is not amused He is broken-hearted for you That you are murdering your inheritance The Civil War was flatulence in the wind The Depression a sneeze Puny next to what is upon you A gaping maw of carnage and shame Oh America weep! Won't you weep, humble yourself! Why worsen the blow? The Almighty's hand is upraised Raised to strike To deliver redemptive but stern discipline But it belongs to One who is merciful Tens of millions of babies sacrificed How can he show mercy When you show no remorse Stephen Pursell, 9/04 |   |
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