The Ballad of Brumar
In Texas skies where the coyotes cry,
Lives Brumar, with his faith held high.
A man of words, yet action none,
He prays for salvation, yet runs from the sun.
He clutches his Bible, his heart cold as stone,
But his love for the Lord is a claim alone.
With fingers on triggers, and anger so vast,
He talks of damnation, but can't let go of the past.
His tongue is a weapon, sharp as a knife,
Twisting each word to tear down a life.
Condemnation flows like a river so wide,
He'd rather burn bridges than walk by your side.
In the shadows of wealth, his envy does grow,
Wishing to punish, but not to bestow.
He hides in the dark, with spite as his guide,
Jealous of those with joy they can't hide.
Though he talks of salvation, of grace and of light,
His soul is a stranger to what’s truly right.
For Brumar’s belief, though loudly professed,
Is a hollow shell, a faith second-guessed.
Yet still, he stands, in his prideful stance,
A man full of vengeance, not second chance.
For in his heart, a fire does burn,
But it’s a flame of hatred that he can’t discern.
So here’s to Brumar, who’ll never find peace,
Till his anger is gone and his envy does cease.
For in his pursuit to condemn and to fight,
He’s lost the true path, the path to the light. |
