Over the Edge
If we believe in one Father,
Why push our siblings down?
If we believe in one God,
Why push our relatives into struggle?
If we believe in one Savior,
Why push sinners into hell?
If we believe in one love,
Why push neighbors into thorns?
If we believe in one spirit,
Why push them over the edge?
***The Book of End of Times
poem by Young Church
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Without the Father
It feels with presence of evil
Family in the home not civil
No sound of melodious music
Only the sound of broken glasses
Unfortunately the home
Of raging spirits
They have shut down the doors
Of their hearts
God finding it hard to enter with grace
Evil ready to show up its face
Darkest cloud hanging over their home
Expect nothing but emptiness
Heavenly angels not surprised at all
Knowing why this disjointed family fall
Stubbornness to connect with their Father
Down on your knees look up
Navigator points to pray route.
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poem by Young Church
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Kiss Kiss Kiss
Kiss kiss kiss
Even if she does not posses
Angelina Jolie's luscious lips
Take her imagination to ecstasy
A place where flowers dance tango
A garden full of red and white roses
Your chapped strong lips her ticket
To the city where waterfalls sing
Kiss Kiss Kiss and make up
Make all her troubles go away
Light up your beautiful home gentleman.
Kiss Kiss Kiss
The only way to keep him
Close to your fire of passion
Put a lip gloss on your body
By the time you approach him
His eyes will be kissing and kissing
All over your smooth fine body
Be the lady of the smoking home
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poem by Young Church
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Doctor for the sick
Obsessed with their church
Looking after its masses only
Masses for their church only
Who looks after the sick?
Obsessed with the glamour
No room for the poor congregation
Looks like a house of intimidation
Although a house for the sick
Looks like some people are forgotten
Although a house for everyone
Where are the ambulances?
To fetch the sick in abundance
Obsession like sand in our eyes
Trouble disease on the out break
The sick are denied medication
Why not run spirit tests for everyone?
Maybe the virus runs amongst
The doctor, the nurse, the pharmacist…
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poem by Young Church
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Evil Against The Good
The game unquestionably harsh
Started the day we were born
Out of me God created the best
Out of me evil wants
To recreate the worst
An infant between life and death
Not yet time to escape by losing breath
The game just began for the young one
The game unquestionably harsh
Dark streets and rough childhood
Experience of an adverse neighborhood
Got him trapped under the belly of the beast
Evil encounters sinking in the young head
Thoughts of the good lad decaying
The game heading for the climax
The game unquestionably harsh
Thought I would be good forever
Evil troops changed me for a sinner
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poem by Young Church
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