LORD RANDOM
By Dan Eumurian, 1996, Come Thru Music Co., BMI
http://www.smokescreen.org/?ComeThruMusic
(Used by permission)

Oh where have you been, Lord Random, my son?
Where have you been, my handsome young man?
        My dear Mother Nature, I’m poisoned and ill,
        For humans have squandered their precious free will.

        Some say we have been here for millions of years,
        While some argue late-date creation--to jeers.
        This fact must be obvious, Mom: You and I
        Could not have created the earth and the sky.

Oh where have you been, Lord Random, my son?
Where have you been, my wealthy young man?
        I have been to Wall Street, where the science of greed
        Chokes out what is right--what economies need.

Oh where have you been, Lord Random, my son?
Where have you been, my popular man?
        I have been to the Congress; they’re taxing hard workers
        To help rich and poor non-producers and shirkers.

Oh where have you been, Lord Random, my son?
Where have you been, my glowing young man?
        I’ve been watching TV; for the sake of the buck,
        They’re filling their viewers with garbage and muck.

Oh where have you been, Lord Random, my son?
Where have you been, my brilliant young man?
        I have learned math and science; to me they both sing
        Of the infinite glory of God, our wise King.

Oh where have you been, Lord Random, my son?
Where have you been, my lucky young man?
        I’m at the casino; their chances are greater
        Than of all this existing without a Creator.

Oh where have you been, Lord Random, my son?
Where have you been, my awe-stricken man?
        I’ve learned of religions; how distant they stray
        From the grace and the truth of that one, narrow way!

Oh where have you been, Lord Random, my son?
Where have you been, my angry young man?
        I have studied the church’s two-thousand-year history.
        How grace has brought them this far is a mystery.

Oh where have you been, Lord Random, my son?
Where have you been, my weeping young man?
        The world--it is poisoned; it is to their loss,
        They spurn their one chance
                At a ransom:
                        The cross.


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