Looking round this circus world,
it’s easy to become
downhearted by the acts upon the stage.
Upheavals in the human realm,
Earth’s mantle, and the Sun
make it feel as if you’re trapped within a cage.

In truth, it is indeed a cage —
a prison is the word
that well describes the dungeon it’s become,
where most are merely puppets
and an easily-led herd
while those who rule are outright demon scum.

[Refrain]
I’m keening in the wilderness
vying with dross to be heard.
But my God has promised to bless what I write
if I remain true to His Word.

The “scum” of which I speak are both
discarnate and of flesh
who seize the reins of planetary power
and carry out the wishes
of their ‘father’ and enmesh
the puppets and the herd who simply cower.

I sing here of the way this fallen world
has been enslaved
by demon forces few will clear admit;
resulting in this mayhem-globe
where most are now depraved,
and the only cure’s to Jesus to submit.

[Refrain]
I’m keening in the wilderness
vying with dross to be heard.
But my God has promised to bless what I write
if I remain true to His Word.

We’re given this one life on earth
for testing day by day
so we can prove our mettle to the One
who placed us here to show us things
we’d learn no other way
and all that’s darkness we, in faith, must shun.

If I could live my life again
and not behave the same
because I know some things I’ve done weren’t right,
I’d not have learned the lessons
which have meant I overcame
the matters against which I’ve had to fight.

[Refrain]
I’m keening in the wilderness
vying with dross to be heard.
But my God has promised to bless what I write
if I remain true to His Word.

Believe me when I tell you that
this life goes by real fast;
but only near the end does that come clear.
By holding on to precious truths
(the deeper ones which last),
there’s nought beyond the grave one needs to fear.

And now I’m full of gratitude,
dear strange mysterious Lord,
for showing me the way when I was dead,
and blind, and deaf, and stupid too —
by you I was restored.
Miraculous the way I have been led.

[Refrain]
I’m keening in the wilderness
vying with dross to be heard.
But my God has promised to bless what I write
if I remain true to His Word.

We shelter in our shibboleths
for comfort — though there’s none
on earth that can be found in human roots.
It’s time to drop ideas learned
by imitation spun,
and cease futile sectarian disputes.

The visible church is mostly fake
and steeped in disrepair.
The Scriptures this did clearly foreordain.
So gather round what’s real and true
and make our homebase there.
for that’s the only comfort on this plane.

[Refrain]
I’m keening in the wilderness
vying with dross to be heard.
But my God has promised to bless what I write
if I remain true to His Word.

.

.

.

© Copyright, Alan Morrison, 2025
[The copyright on my works is merely to protect them from any wanton plagiarism which could result in undesirable changes (as has actually happened!). Readers are free to reproduce my work, so long as it is in the same format and with the exact same content and its origin is acknowledged]

.