The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.
I shall not want to see images of malnourished sheep on my
TV.
You make us lay next to green pastures, but we don’t eat
grass.
The Lord is sadistic, his livestock can’t last.
Even though I walk through the valley
of the shadow of death, I fear no evil
Except for your extremist farm
hands working on your East and West paddocks.
World war three and nuclear
fallout scares me to death, and probably will.
You are with me; Your rod and
Your staff, they comfort me.
Although some choir boys will
tell you otherwise.
Little God peep
You have lost this sheep
And there’s no way you’ll ever
find me.
Leave me alone
I’ll never come home
I’m leaving your tale behind me.
