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I had a misspent youth, I should tell you about it sometime

Meanwhile In deepest darkest Triberland
Where mere mortals fear to tread
The sun it went out at midday
And the natives were full of dread

Them say unto the missionary
"Be this a sign of the end
Is we gonna be nuclearated
Before The Word hath become our friend?"

The Triber missionary get on radio
Call up Sanford in the States
Say "What happening, it all gone dark
Is it the rapture and we The Lates?"

Headquarters reply officially
"It not our fault this stuff
Look not much ever happened
And for us it has been tough!"

This make no sense to natives
Even Triber missionary confused
So he look up Fanda Eagles
Where truth and wisdom never refused

And so this story have happy ending
Yes you hear it from Nosethreedamnus lips
No need to panic folks across the world
It just a little Solar Eclipse

Now Nosethreedamnus predicts great wind
Will blow Ethnose way
But even force five hurricane
Won't blow the filth away

It's batten down the hatches
Keep the carpet on the sin
Stand upwind all thee saints
Don't look or breathe in

Sing the old songs about washed in blood
Hope the folks think the haem is divine
And don't look to closely at the shag pile
Then see it is really mine

Of course the corpuscles are long dried
For decades I've been free
I'm no longer the bleeding victim
Messing the carpet of Ethnosity

Wonder if the cleaner
Looks at red stain after red stain
Wonders who made the bloody mess
And if the pain was worth the gain?

Memo to said cleaner
"Leave my blood in it's state of childhood confusion
So it might be a warning to those who pass
Beware of wounds, cuts and traumatic contusion"

Oops, now I'm becoming morbid
And really I'm a happy type of soul
For despite the years of weirdness
I'm more or less quite whole

So back to where I started
May the winds of change blow a certain way
And may I be a long way upwind
When the filth does on four winds spray

Very good!

What do you do
When you've looked the Devil's servant in the eye
And he tries to draw you closer
With his spiritual sounding lie?

When you discover the missionary
Is but a wolf in sheepish clothes
The disguise so very perfect
It hides from the tail to the nose?

And when you uncover the evidence
Of lambs to slaughter led
You find the masters of the wolf
Are morally very very dead?

When you see the mission folk
Frolicing in pastures green
Saying "there is no wolf about
It's just a bitter dream"?

Then when you write dire warnings
They call the lawyers in
And gather in the mites
With the godly given grin?

And even when one goes to jail
They wash their hands of he
And issue disowning statements
For all the naive to read and see?

Even when the lambs are loved ones
Many will not even care
For "The Work" it must go on
And each must do their share?

The genes are very mixed now
So wolves are up many a family tree
Therefore it is best not to shake the branches
For fear of what one might really see?

So in the name of Jesus
The wolves are free to roam
And the letters to the faithful
Are sent to many a receiving home?

And the Devil's servants are still "serving"
Or if exposed, shuffled out of sight
Their victims dismissed as "bitter"
And mentally "not right"?

So what do you do
When you look the Devil's servant in the eye
Do you render him to Caeasar
Or just believe the spiritual sounding lie?

This says it all, Bemused.

I wonder who has read this. Besides myself.

I wonder if there is anyone out there who is still thinking ... or if the sheep have turned off their brains completely.

I wonder so many things ....

Well, someone must be reading, because we are at over 7,780,000 hits on this site now.