The Good Book

The good word has dried my lips
All my sins and all my guilts
Are now resting on my hips.
Do you know whose fault is this?
The good man is just a story
Filled with heart and filled with glory.
But a story nonetheless.
See, he left me. I’m a mess.
The good book has told me lies,
Now I know everything dies.
In the end, it doesn’t matter.
We are dust and we will scatter.

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