God has got a blog but not in words
He uses as his text the entire world
From lions in mountains down to little birds
The colours of the sky, the leaves uncurled
Every day he leaves his message clear
We are blinded by our own desires
Some say that God is dead, why should we fear?
For without his Eye we have no hellish fire
From Joan of Arc to most of Europe’s Jews
Afghanistan or Syria, who is spared?
Were any of those deaths read on the News
So civilised we are, so fake our prayers
We want high self esteem, so how see Job
Sitting on a dunghill with no clothes?
How my heart sings 