That a typo of mine
has caused you to worry
The s and the w are
sadly stored
Closely together on
the querty keyboard.
The book, not the
band
The next bible I
write
Will be slowly, by
hand.
I thought you were
clever
And you would soon
spot my error.
To me it's abundantly
clear
Unlike a Guinness but
a Weiss beer
What I created was
good and was true
That includes people
and certainly you
The glass is more
than half full
The world is normally
good, not evil.
Just ask yourself,
silly head
Your intentions as
you get out of bed
Is it to kill and
maim?
Or break your fast
and take the train?
The milkman had now
left his load
Of milk and cream on
your road.
The bus driver has
washed and driven
So you can travel to
make a living.
The young mother
holds her baby
To her breast. It
seems to me
The world I made is
mostly good
I presumed that would
be understood.
All this talk of sin
and death
Is simply bad logic
and worse math
Open your eyes and
smell the tea
What a typo, silly
me.
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