You have small banana, and you need to go home
Where some munchkins may follow. The yellow brick road
Finds its way into Kansas for prophets of God.
What is pompous to Him indeed is a façade.
Meeting up with Him soon means your heart may explode
Due to pressure and guilt from the soul search syndrome.
Live the red state of mind. I don’t need to be kind.
Head and shoulder the hayseed to see just how far
The bread basket of pompenstance reaches for fame.
Bought credentials and background fulfill the end game
To appear to be Christian to placate the czar.
Now I know I’m in Kansas. It screws with my mind.
Spirituality is a thing become vile
In a mixture of hogwash to whitewash the truth.
“Ad astra per aspera?” Why shoot for the stars?
Can your difficulties be more sacred than ours?
Dare I turn my nose up to the arrogant youth?
Therapeutic it is, therefore, it is worthwhile.