If I were God I’d die of grief.
I’d rip up the oak and spill the sea
And kick the mountain with
foot and wait until the system
stopped and changed and then I’d
weep and then I’d die
I am not God, not I, but if I
were I’d die of grief.
If I were God I’d die of grief.
I’d rip up the oak and spill the sea
And kick the mountain with
foot and wait until the system
stopped and changed and then I’d
weep and then I’d die
I am not God, not I, but if I
were I’d die of grief.