Satan always likes to hang out with God
Makes him feel like a big-shot mock-angel
Just like a sniper lying low in fantasy divine
A silver dollar skipped across the Potomac
The sunlight Autumnal drive in the country
I would never mock my angel divine angel
Or doubt the rustle of her wings to trust to
Trust her station, her blush, her integrity.
Satan likes to play golf with God but would
Never join a club that would have him as a
Member the time remember the time when
We were stretched on spaghetti tenuous
And now we have the blessing of touch?
The only doubt is doubting the perfect.
The only doubt is doubting perfection.
Doubt is Satan’s caddy.
On the other hand love
Conquers in spite of doubt.
When Satan plays golf with God
He cheats by subtle adjustment
We love moment to moment
And don’t keep score.