THE ART OF SIN

Life is no accident
It's given from on high
But a newborn's eyes hide little lies
As they engineer their cries
Too soon they learn to excel
In the art of sin
Groping, grasping, reaching high
The great brass ring to win
But the ring's never had
Except a price is paid
And in the quest we neglect
The King Who came to save
We put Him last in thought and act
In all we say and do
As wisdom cries
We pass by
On the path of fools
And as we go our hearts grow cold
'Till the sudden end
To stand before an angry God
-Who longed to be our friend.

Copyright 2007/Stan Simons ASCAP