He’s sure that he is going straight to Heaven.
I’m sure that he will be the Patron Saint
of Assholes. Is God’s number really seven?
I’ve dialed it often. Answering he ain’t.
Our hero, though, just sneers at such complaint.
He dials God’s number not to ask a thing
but only to instruct without restraint.
The counselor is needed by the King.
Our hero names a hymn — and angels sing.
Our hero calls for rain — and does it pour!
When he demands salvation from the sting
of his mortality, can God ignore?
Nay! Folks, have faith and thus negate all doubt.
(Our hero’s telling God to keep me out.)