Sheep Dip


Must my flock feed on what you have trampled and drink what you have muddied with your feet? (Ezekiel 34:19)

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To all the sheep who’ve left the fold
For whom the weekly show got old
I realize the strain
Was driving you insane
And rendering your heart stone cold

To all the saints who once believed
And found that they had been deceived
By promises of love
And insights from above
For every gift and tithe received

The face of God seems all too human
In this religious game we play
It’s just American consuming
A crass eternal life buffet

To all the folks who walked away
Discouraged by the thin display
Who shuffled out the door
In search of something more
Once more a sheep who’s gone astray

To all the hungry on a search
Who found no living bread in church
Just sermons for the birds
Just dry and empty words
The gospel rendered as cliché

We buy and sell health and anointing
Yet there is something we suspect
There’s more to God than power-pointing
Or some lame film clip we project

To all sheep who were sheared of hope
And aided down that slippery slope
Invited to a feast
But all they got was fleeced
And sold a bar of snake oil soap

To all the saints who jumped the tracks
Who bolted or fell through the cracks
Who couldn’t play along
And joined the churchless throng
To all the sheep who won’t come back


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