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god would like a word

by peter o sullivan

/

lyrics

David selling tickets for a raffle at the Church
tonight had brought him to a house
the Home of Eustace Birch
a man with Wealth beyond his means
which if rumour be believed
He'd stolen from a king
Zaire in 1983

The road was worn with rain
weathered cobble Rocked the chain
of David's rusted pedal Bike,
at forty five he couldn't drive
Though you'd best believe he'd tried, you see
His mind was like a child's
A fact glaring in his eyes he'd never reconciled

"Anybody home, God would like a word
Fortune favours those who give unto the lord
The devil holds a hoard of crimson, heavy gold
The kingdom saves a bed for those who give"

"Or so you're told" a scathing shout replied
Eustace with a gun, greyhound by his side
A Shotgun Shouldered skyward,
A pheasant on his arm
"Since the war I've built a fine array of Argentinian wine
how bout a drink, do come inside
I'll make a bed, in case you stay the night"
He turned into the porch
As a fog descended down
Shrouded from the light
Murderous crows sang out a song

Make me a salmon, and I will swim
Away from this hell we find ourselves in
Make me a salmon, I will go far away
You’ll never see this salmon again

credits

released November 17, 2023
Composer
Peter O’Sullivan

Producer
Peter O’Sullivan
Lorkin O’Reilly
Michael Halls

Performance
Peter O’Sullivan
Lorkin O’Reilly
Michael Halls
Evelyn Halls

license

all rights reserved

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