just feel the earth and feel the trick
the ground is rough and roses scorn
i knew the rose was red with thorns
but i only thought of roses,
not thorns and bloody pricks
the books were paper made and told
of streams in mountains, beautiful
so i lived to walk near valley river
i found it was cold, and poses
a harm just like the quivering red of roses
i feel the world has made me mean
i did not want to be this way
and god made me, and all i’ve seen
he was perfect and made me mean
you’d think that easy would define this all
and eden is not just a story dead
but more beautiful than roses red
oh how i wish that god weren’t mean
oh how i wish that it were true
i would believe, i would love him much
but i have seen hate,
and proven through
it’s not so easy, in a book
it’s not so easy, why is it not?
it’s not so easy, even this book
is made from dying tree which seen
the awful madness of god’s perfect mean
