Jesus, scoop my eyes out with melon-ballers.
I can't stand this godawful world no more.
Phone lines are full of collections callers
And my inconstant girlfriend is a whore.
Jesus, zest my junk with a cheese grater.
To your divinity I've not been true.
You might even say that I'm a hater,
Who's been known to talk mad shit about you.
Jesus, pimp slap my soul with your ring hand,
Your almighty forgiveness knows no bounds.
Though I felt forsaken, your one command
Made sure that I'd make the heavenly rounds.
September 4, 2015
