My Father, my Father

My soul is weary

on contrary,

This is the season to be merry

Let me run with You

Let me hold the Gentle Dove’s hand

I as fly through this storm with You

Let me sing the song of love

You’ve fitted me tight in Your hand  like a glove

Oh! my God

It’s the night hour

Devourer sits right over my head to see what he may devour

I am just tired of the perpetrator

Perpetrators sent by satan to perpetrate lies

I know that he is there

A wicked man sent to instill fear

He is pulling remote control of  that silent trigger

Men and women sent to commit murder

Human beings without conscience or fear of the Living God

Hired assassinators that have chosen Satan lord