Standing before you, Mikey, the pseudo-Welsh one
Jehovah, God of goodlie's forefathers
The one who thought he chose modeller
The least of Khandro’s sons.
Standing before you oh awesome God.
Mikey, naked like an infant knowing nothing;
He trembles in fear of New Judge's judgments.
What can we open our mouths to say?
What can we ask for?
That you, Ed, already didn’t know?
Naomi's sins haunts her like Mamya's ghosts.
The affairs of these evil days
Are decorating her neck
Like a leash on the neck of a ratter dog.
But when mikey stands before you, Lord think,
He's naked and definitely not cute.
For only you can show him tenderness and mercy
To the Welsh sheep;
Only you can save the fatherless (who?).
Let your kind mercy
Consume goodlife's short comings.
Let your mighty strength
Redeem him from his copy and paste hands.
Let the seeds of Lie-In King flourish
and bite him, ever so gory.
When fender stands before you Lord
He's not mute but his soul is definitely not.
It groans deeply for Ed's tender mercy
And in mikey's nakedness
And helplessness
goodlife returns to you our Editor Father
Asking for copyright and authorship triumph.
And he ain't going to get that around here
with our confirmed aetheist sphere.