Look it's a boy, maybe he'll be a priest,
Surly he won't commit religious treason,
By becoming some ungodly heathen.
He'll grow up around nothing but Christ,
But his father will never be in his sight,
For his father will be serving the church,
And his mother will hang herself from the birch.
In wisdom and strength the boy will grow, his frown meaning nothing to us at all,
He's fine as long as his faith doesn't fall.
It's a long and winding road on a narrow path,
This child will never have to feel God's wrath,
Why he wouldn't believe in an overbearing God there is no reason, this boy will never be a heathen.
YOU ARE READING
This Lost Heathen
PoetryA poem in the form of a concept album based around an atheist named Christian In a devoutly religious town.
