Oil War, or, The War for My Soul St.

Paul tells me to fight the good fight Glenn Beck tells me to fight the good fight What, my friend, can be a good fight? One million Moslems lying dead facedown in the dirt— a good fight? There’s a war going on for my soul, A Zoroastrian clash between the forces of darkness and light. Snowy white, unseen forces fence with swords and tridents over my head all day. I asked a man, a bum on the street, what he thought of the war. He looked up and said, “There’s a war going on? What for?” The war is for my soul And the war is for the world. No, wait, the war is for money. Could it be a sham war? Could it be that the war is only for A slick, black, glittering liquid? The devil came, dressed in oil He assured me there was no war And he would run to the snowy hinterlands To evade the draft for this no war. Then he assured me that he does not exist. The devil refuses to fight, And scary, the devil may care more about your war than you do. Is there anything truly worth fighting for? A bumper sticker tells me to fight the good fight A bumper sticker tells me to Make Love, Not War And a flower shoots out of a gun barrel

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