Dear Preacher

Dear Preacher

(By Walter Beck)

Dedicated to GE”J”S

Dear preacher,

You have the gall

To question my honesty

In those words “On My Honor”;

You have the sack to tell me

That I should do the “honorable thing”

And leave.

Dear preacher,

Where is your fruit

From spitting hellfire and damnation?

Where are your fans and friends?

You’ve done a fine job;

They all learned how to judge and condemn

Just like you.

I’ve seen my harvest

From nine years in a staff uniform;

I’ve seen it in the bright eyes of the kids

Who recognize me on the street

Always excited to see me;

I’ve seen it in the loyal eyes

Of my brothers and sisters on staff,

A Family that you could never know;

And none of them give a damn

That I march under the Rainbow Banner.

Dear preacher,

You don’t know what it is

To soar on Eagle’s wings.

You have grown old and bitter

Drowning in your venom;

And I taught the kids how to rock n roll,

How to be free

And live as they are.