If the wages of sin are death,
And the godless are godless still
as they spend their dying breath,
Their earthly credit has expired,
Now they give their account,
draw on their damn pension, once retired,
Who are we saving from the fires?
Do we sit on our nest egg
Whilst they are forced to beg?
When weighing up the cost,
Of reaching out to the lost,
Do we charge it to you or I?
Lets split the indifference.
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Unreliable Narrator
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