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Grief and anguish wash over me
On television the things to see.
Turn I away to watch children at play
To cope with the box’s tales of gray.
Isn’t it enough our own battles are on us?
Must we go to another world for more fuss?
There are the struggles for providing food
The fast is a competitor to mother and brood.
Who can compete with the grease of their taste
And whatever other things these are laced?
Alone in the morning of beauteous sunrise I stand
To bless and praise my God, His creation so grand.
The weight of worldly embrace I do not need
While upon this ride through dishevel goes my steed.
Racing over ground of verdant magnificent glory
Who has time for the things of tripe and gory?
Of course, those who turned to a rotting kingdom
Must bear their own sorrows of strife and dumb.
Give me strength from these to turn away,
While on a path of appreciation for the May.
On television the things to see.
Turn I away to watch children at play
To cope with the box’s tales of gray.
Isn’t it enough our own battles are on us?
Must we go to another world for more fuss?
There are the struggles for providing food
The fast is a competitor to mother and brood.
Who can compete with the grease of their taste
And whatever other things these are laced?
Alone in the morning of beauteous sunrise I stand
To bless and praise my God, His creation so grand.
The weight of worldly embrace I do not need
While upon this ride through dishevel goes my steed.
Racing over ground of verdant magnificent glory
Who has time for the things of tripe and gory?
Of course, those who turned to a rotting kingdom
Must bear their own sorrows of strife and dumb.
Give me strength from these to turn away,
While on a path of appreciation for the May.