HAVE YOU HEARD?
Have you heard how heads will roll,
oil will boil, water will wash? The sandman,
alert to his things, will reminisce at late night
soirees about the days of yore - when he passed
over the nomads in the sand, dropped Manna from
heaven in some foreign land, and scorched the heated
deserts for a 'chosen' few. At the loudspeakers just
outside the window, the hollow-voiced fellows will
stop just short of microphoned shouting, pushing bad
images into the faces of those who stroll by. They shout:
'We are singing the long song of those chosen by God!
You may listen or you may pass - it makes no never-mind
to us. We are no longer of this earth!' Nobody minds that and,
upon hearing it, they glide away, knowingly avoiding that
they just witnessed the Truth being spoken aloud. No God like
that has ever spoken to them before. They are, then, delighted
just for the memory of being present at the start of something big.
Have you heard how heads will roll,
oil will boil, water will wash? The sandman,
alert to his things, will reminisce at late night
soirees about the days of yore - when he passed
over the nomads in the sand, dropped Manna from
heaven in some foreign land, and scorched the heated
deserts for a 'chosen' few. At the loudspeakers just
outside the window, the hollow-voiced fellows will
stop just short of microphoned shouting, pushing bad
images into the faces of those who stroll by. They shout:
'We are singing the long song of those chosen by God!
You may listen or you may pass - it makes no never-mind
to us. We are no longer of this earth!' Nobody minds that and,
upon hearing it, they glide away, knowingly avoiding that
they just witnessed the Truth being spoken aloud. No God like
that has ever spoken to them before. They are, then, delighted
just for the memory of being present at the start of something big.
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