all the satellites

a friend whom i love said, "God must be dead ."

he turned my direction to see if i'd heard what he said.

he said, " i flip on the t.v. and see the politics and greed.

i see the rapes and the murders and the endless casualties."

 

so he asked, "what kind of God

 would allow a world so corrupt?"

and i ask him back, well, if you think about it

what kind of human would? 

 

you see/know, i'd love to point the finger of blame at God.

i got no problem with that.

the problem is with the free will we got,

it just tends to points right back

it’s like believing in evolution

and think we come from monkeys and from mice.

because i'd rather believe we walked out of the oceans

than that we jacked up paradise

 

but then i think about human nature and

realize it has to be true

look at everything we touch, everywhere we go, everyone we use

it falls apart or it's damaged or abused

and should we really be so shocked?

and should we act so mis-confused?

 

so i said what about our actions though,

are we responsible for them too?

he laughed and said the fact you can ask that question

should probably answer it for you.

he smiled and lit a cigarette.

as i searched my coat for a rum crook cigar.

and we marveled on what completely different individuals we are.

 

i challenge your nitzche-esque theory

i believe God is wide awake in heaven

i think He watches c-span and cries 24-7

then he takes a break and goes to the local hospital

walks into the newborn ward.

and sees a glimmer of hope in the eyes

of every child being born.

 

and He thinks this one's going to make it right.

this one's going to be a beautiful dancer.

this one comes to me tomorrow night

and this one has a cure for cancer.

 

He sees the potential before the world has a grip

 and He sees hope before we get a hold and break the mold and make them slip

and He spares the world another night.

and He lets us keep trying to get it right

i have this overwhelming, sinking feeling

that we’ve fallen far behind.

 

so my friend whom i love said,

“you may be right about that c-span thing, “

but i just can’t imagine heaven having

anything as blasphemous as a t.v.

and we kept on laughing, talking straight through the night.

he wondered if heaven has cable.

and i'm like...

“what with all the satellites?”

 

 

music and words by robb

august and after til november 19, 2000

apartment song