Yes please ask God
I haven't a clue
Whether Karla was evil
Or just sniffed too much glue
She seemed serene when I saw her
Relaxed and happy on tv
Talking of Jesus and being saved
I thought of two victims in a grave
The woman died late
She must have been scared
Cowering in a corner
While they butchered her date
Karla whacked her in the shoulder
With that sharp pick ax
First she begged for mercy
And then finally she asked
After many more jabbings
To die, die, die, please
Hurting too much, stabbing
Kill me, kill me, give me peace
What can you say about a woman who orgasmed
With each swing of her weapon?
Can Jesus save her, will He forgive?
Does getting religion mean a killer should live?
Did spiritual emptiness made her kill?
Or was it Mother mean and cruel, cheap thrills
Selling her child's body at twelve
Horrid abuse, into which I cannot delve
Without wondering, pondering, musing
Where was His love, tolerant and soothing
What was God thinking? Where was He?
How could He let this be?
Some parents are hideous
Love and gentleness
Are truly religious
Not jailhouse conversions
Posings, perversions, delusions
Loving your children is spiritually pure
Once they are damaged there is rarely a cure
In the house of mirrors is a cross
Symbolizing faith, pain, torture and loss
The images are distorted, the cross is too fat
Now it is skinny, wearing a hat
I was scared, shaking
I got out of there fast
I did not care that a black cat
Joyfully crossed my path
Magic comes on the wing of the dove
Like pleasure in the tunnel of love
The amusement park of life is closing
I am looking around, singing, dancing
Looming is a big black exit gate
It doesn't make me dizzy or sick
But I still see a vision of hate
In those two crossed sticks |
