Religious pudding

You were trying to unearth god there boy
Trying to dig out some nostalgic church toy
and as you saw the treasure rise out
you and the aimless began to shout
you declared it an angel head
it was a sacred piece you said
yet it was no more than a baby
wrapped in the earth posing to pray
still in that blessed clay
motherless and fatherless
like your conscience careless
The pack's most beautiful cub
looked upon as a holy cherub

comedy infecting the ideas you are thinking
Your square inside the window of reality shrinking
second thoughts and a slight shock of conscious
You mix that milk and napalm noxious
should I bury that baby again
Or just put away the spade and refrain?
let go of that little piece of creation
Give that high cross a subtle nod
that little symbol of conventional permitted god

Sipping sheep soda all of a rigid sudden
preaching of the holocausts self righteous and giddy
none of us really that guilt ridden
bombs and maps under our cozy beds
for the next potential war of dread
We could aim the guns on that last day
near the rockets and that blessed clay
where you unearthed amos
looking for jesus

Comedy radiating around your ears
politics arousing your fears
dishonest honesty served sweet and sour but kosher
Our cancer spawning sunburn you sell the lotion
a dish to solve the world's inevitable hell
cut the polar extremes and content ourselves
with luke warm pudding