He was the shadowy shallow man
who acts like a fastidious, prude puritan
Putting every man on a slate,
Sternly slating soiled sinners.
He seems to have the ‘book of life’ in his hands
And with pencil and eraser
He spells the wrath of wretched sinners
“You! you did this and this and that
You will rot in seething sulphurs”
As He juries us,
He forgot he was also black and not white;
Now, we have spelt “Love” backward front
And it looks like “Hate.”
He has made us misunderstand God.
Grace is not actually what they have painted it to be:
Grace is spelt love
Grace appeared to all men
And love white and black as well.
Wouldn’t I call Grace gray?
So I told gray love
“I’m a fetid filth
Whose life touse apart.”
“I know,” HE said,
HE wiped my slate clean
Now, black has become white.