Praying in a Vacuum: Oil for Sinning
If we are a “Christian nationâ€
Lifeblood in Persian Gulf soil
Should not the population
Be warned that Heaven runs on oil?
From the ground gargles up an answer
Of liquid gold and mud
It pumps and it courses
And through pipelines it does trudge
The steady marching rhythm
Of our misguided grudge
We’ve come uninvited
We’ve no plan to budge
The Butcher of Baghdad
The cheers came in flood
As he swung o’er the earth
Now smeared with boot prints and blood
So which one to worship
The Holy or the crude?
‘Cause Heaven runs on oil
And God’s long-overdue
Oh, who’s the conductor?
Of this self-benefit coup
Do they reside by the altar?
Do they kneel in a pew?
And is it pointless asking?
It seems no one listens
Don’t say He cannot hear
From such a long distance
As we are shooting for atonement
And bombing as sacrament
Let’s thank George for the appointing
God our 43rd president
And as you sit in a church
On that holy day
The scene will unfold
And here’s how it will play:
The priest will rub oil
In the shape of a cross
On the forehead of your baby
Who in 18 years shall be lost
Will you find it so ironic, upsetting, yet true
That on his face is the cause for which his life withdrew?
Yes! Heaven runs on oil, so our deaths aren’t in vain
No there’s nothing futile about dying when it is in His name
‘Tis not oil for profit if a prophet ‘doth say it
And his jury of angels, our crimes, they’ll acquit
Then standing exonerated by the church and the steeple
God will thank us for killing the rest of his people
For it was made clear right from the beginning
It is a fair exchange: oil for sinning
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