(To the tune of “You Are My Sunshine”)
You are my Jesus, My buddy Jesus
You make me happy, when times are bad
And it is so clear, If you could be here
You’d protect me from my drunk step-dad
When times are trying, my mother dying
We know you’re listening, to all our prayers
She was a dancer, now she has cancer
You created heaven to show us that you care
Cystic Fibrosis, caused my psychosis
My lung infections, cannot be cured
I can’t complain though, you also died slow
For my sins, pain on the cross you endured
I hear the talking, this poem is mocking
What is the point to, a sick story told
I don't hate Jesus, think you should see this
But this superstition that is religion has grown old
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
interesting read.................................