Evil one, why are you still here?
I told you to go but you reside in my fear.
You’ve been evicted, kicked out.
Still you’re wicked, and you write hooks
like a heavy weight bout, right hooks.
You write hooks, music to my ears,
telling me all the things I want to hear
but never something I need.
So you open your palm, never a psalm, and say “Feed,”
as if I’m the livestock you prod around,
leaving scars all up and down
the sides of my soul.
Who is really in control?
But that’s the irony, isn’t it?
Although you treat me like livestock,
I am truly dead inside if I leave the flock.
I belong to you no longer, Satan.
O, I am the LORD’s; my paths he will straighten!