It struck me funny
That your nose is runny,
That the sun is sunny,
That blue bugs blabber incessantly ‘bout the value of money,
That the grumblin’ growl of hunger is brewin’ in your tummy,
That you and adult depression have become rather chummy.

Silly bunny! Trix are for kids
All the good stuff really is
Dolled out to those who believe
In the baddest, sky-flying highlight of all time,
The inventor and author of rhapsodic rhyme,
The king of eternity, the Savior of all mankind,
I hope my blatant confession of the name of Jesus isn’t completely out of line.

Sugar makes the medicine go down.
Hope follows death, not the opposite way around.
Sadness is an invitation for a foolishly funky sound,
So let that baby rip, go with the flow of a Holy Spirit inspired, soothing comfort rebound,
And the patient will flip, skip, open their lips with a shout
Dancing all over newly consecrated, holy ground.

I hear a clamor,
Maybe more like a st… st… stammer
‘Bout the need for grammar
To regulate my making of a magic concoction slammer,
To put out the lights with a heavy-handed, hell fire branded hammer,
To lure me away to a cow with which they’ve newly become enamored.

Well, shlammer blammer! Happy is good!
Everyone really should
Put on their pink, piglet tail and nose,
Their oversized rabbit suit with big floppy ears and toes,
A blaskron laden bucket with water ballon bombs of prose,
Get ready to drink ‘cause this ain’t a trickle I’m whippin’ out my firehose,
Gonna water that parched earth so this jumpin’, giant beanstalk bean grows.

Delight comes in flying a big kite.
Giving to the wind keeps your pursestrings from becoming tight.
Foolish displays keep one humble in his or her own sight,
So take those garments off, let’s go runnin’ naked on the golf course in the night,
With a glide slide tumble ride getting’ strawberries in the grass like an ass
And my big, white booty shinin’ bright.

Now, call me crazy.
Don’t say I’m lazy.
Whose vision is hazy
If you say my big elephant ears look like a dainty daisy?
If your propriety says my preachin’ is getting’ a bit too praisy?
If you think David Hasselhof got a groove like Count Basie?

Little baby, that’s what you are.
Cryin’ for milk ‘cause this candy’s too hard
For your undeveloped teeth. Your just want to be fed
With the truth of the Word, that mouth-watering spiritual bread,
Life giving, power-radiating Body that rose from the dead,
Sucking the juice out of every word that He said,
Drinking down red, running rivers from every wound that He bled.

Laughter lifts you up out of your chair.
Hilarity the elixir that floats away every care.
Blabbering blubber mouths never give a hootin’ holler ‘bout the clashing colors they wear,
So grab on quick, take a trip on this gravity-defying umbrella if you dare.
Jesus handled all the serious business so you can let down your hair, soar high into the air,
Leave your vacant, window stare. Just try it, He’ll meet you there.