Mary had a little lamb, snow at her feet,

Joseph had his wise men who followed

 the stars, ending in sin.

 Those little doves rushing in, blessings are saying, FAKE!

 Herding the flock in to praise upward...

 The sky is my feast.

 Brushing footprints that are no longer there.

 Join us or thou shall go to Hell!

 I would rather praise my own crops.

 Weep thy tears and I will shed fur.

 Come here little Red, I can fool you too.

 I can reap my own blood as well as yours.

North,...