When I fire up my backyard Jesus
I don't want no trouble from the neighbors. They can hop
through hell on their Buddhas and plastic Aphrodites
for all I care. The country is a mess
that's common knowledge, what no one seems to recognize
is a man's right to his own perversion. As in
What turns you on mister what gets you off sister
as they used to say at the Electric Company.
I've still got friends down there and they assure me
the cost of energy to burn this thing
pales to the abundance of hard objective cheer
it does my heart. Which is good for my cholesterol
and the body is a temple if you hadn't heard.
Everything in the end comes down to how you feel
about eternity. When I look out my window on the world
I see a hopscotch match of midgets and morons
running things. Nature's overrated.
I like the glow my Jesus sets across
the tarmac river of the trampoline.