GOD WOKE, BY STAN LEE (Y III)

Like unto children lost in the night
They search for a God to guide them
Like unto children huddled in fright
They must have their God beside them
But what sort of children, from cradle to grave
Would grant him obiance and yet make him their slave?

They have conjured a heaven and there he must stay
Ever responsive, be it night, be it day
He must love and forgive them and comply when they pray
Ever attentive, never to stray
And like unto children in their childish zeal
They worship their dream thinking fantasy real

God pondered
He, The Be All, The End All, The Will and The Way
The Power, The Glory, The Night and The Day
The Word and The Law, The Fount and The Plan
Lord God Almighty, was baffled by man
He was puzzled by the paradox
By the irony there in
If only he could show them
But where would he begin?

How to make them understand, how to make them see
How to make them recognize their own insanity
They live for gain and they strive in vain
To circumvent their death
But all the gold and wealth untold
Won’t buy an extra breath

They bestow acclaim and they shower fame
On those who rise to power
But those who care, who love and share
Are forgot within the hour
They’re prone to fight, to use their might
For whatever flag they cherish
But those who cry “To arms” don’t die
Their young are sent to perish
Yes, all unsung, they kill their young
Who fall and die and then they cry
But why?

A different house of worship? A different colour skin?
A piece of land that’s coveted and the drums of war begin
Only death can triumph, there’s no place left to hide
And still the madmen ply their trade claiming God is on their side
Of all who live, who crawl and creep
Who take and give, who wake and sleep
Who run, who stand, who dot the land from shore to shore

Man, only man, none but man, wages war
Only man, eternally killing
Only man, infernally willing
To concede himself grace
To bury his race
Only man, earnestly praying to his god as he’s slaying and piously saying
As the battles increase
He does what he must for his motives are just
The mayhem, the carnage, the slaughter won’t cease
But no need to worry, God’s in his corner, he’s killing for peace

Man
His greed, his hate, his crime, his war
The Lord, our God, could bear no more
He looked his last at man so small
So lately risen, so soon to fall
He looked his last and had to know
Whose fault this anguish, this mortal woe?
Had man failed maker? Or maker, man?
Who was the planner? And whose the plan?
He looked his last then turned aside
He knew the answer, that’s why God cried