I knew a saint
A hope-to-die Holywarrior (wasn't no coward soldier) strict straight and
narrow like a saint supposed to be
When he was just papa to me we wuz cool but when the scales fell from mine
eyes and I beheld divinity I threw stones too he knew he'd have to take the
blows but that one was mighty mighty low
O people I really seen talked to and touched up a saint
He called me son
So how come they aint no halo round my brow
See I ate the fruit I tasted the forbidden knowledge I was college educated
see he could tell me how it oughtta be but I could hip him to how it really
is He couln't dig it
If thou Sprach to God before you peek at This Week with Cokie Roberts
verily thou hast thine own reward
These here times aint for saints
This be America in the 21st Century fool no rule of Gold or Silver
But of Brass
And Noble Everyman's an ass that'll burn you at the stake if you try to save
his soul he don't wanna love his brother he wants to boost himself up by
steppin' on his neck
He's hocked the whole Armor of God at his local pawnshop for a rock
This aint no time for saints
Neither Stephens nor Peters or Pauls nor Kings nor Gandhi's
Czar Nicholas is folks idea of a self-sacrificin' spritual leader
No shining visions righteous prognostications or acts of faith
Just gray murmurings, vague fears
Make a Joyful noise to hymmorhoids
Hear! The Day of Judgment Gnaws your ear
And it aint no time for saints
Chris Hayden
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