God loves babies in mothers arms
He wonders about children as they grow
But adults he has no time for.
He discards them
As sometimes they have to crawl on all fours
From out of the roasting desert
To reach shelter and safety
For his tired wounds tell a story
And they are streaming with blood.
Perhaps he will show some piety
And take care of them
Shade them like the sleepers in the park
This God may then get to like man
Take pity on him, guide him
Unto the paths of righteousness.
So happiness will show through and protect all
For the days to come.
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