Poem -

Sons O'the Father

Sons O'the Father

Compile sons, bastard ones 

Feet deep, in bloody streets. 

Father come, look what the boys did 

Lecturing tongue, crimes a sordid. 

Teach thee, instill, the need to learn 

Before heavens lost, worlds are burned. 

Mothers left, picking up the pieces 

Following Jesus.....following Jesus....

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