The End

The End

Fred Phelps makes me sick,
Yes, really, really sick
When he acts like a dick and
He talks a lot of shit and
He likes to make some noise
About boys loving boys
About girls loving girls
And he makes me want to hurl.
When he talks all this shit,
He makes me wanna spit.
He makes me want to scream
And act so friggin’ mean,
But mean is his middle name
And I am not to be the same.
I am not to be the one
Who breaks loose and comes undone.
No, I am here to spread the news
About this war we cannot lose.
I am here to take a stand
For everyone, my fellow man.
Yes, I am here to make amends
For the hatred that contends
Toward the masses here on earth
Who live with love right from birth.
Now, some will say that it’s a fact
That Obama’s got my back,
But I haven’t seen enough of a change
To make a decision on that.
But all I know – or want to know
Is that it is time for the world to show
Love to every human being
Because that was the initial dream.
But a dream is just a dream
And when we wake, it’s gone, you see.
Unless of course that dream is free
To live out here with you and me.
And if it lives and grows and grows
And blossoms under eternal prose,
And that dream becomes something real
So much that it’s something to feel,
Then all has been worth it
Every drop of blood
Every shot to the head
Every last bashing
Every body left for dead.
Peace is a lease
And the violence must cease.
The hatred must end
For everyone to depend
On the fellowship of friends
Before more life has to end.
And end and end and end.
It is time to say the end.