False Preacherman Blues

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In 1977 I posted a poem on a telephone pole which was right in front of the so-called People's Temple in San Francisco. Jim Jones and his followers had committed mass suicide a month or so before, so there was a very strange feeling in the air. The poem was printed in an article in the newspaper. Those days felt a little like Dante's Inferno, around the seventh or eighth circle of Hell. The tv evangelist is practically guaranteed to be corrupted by the Great Deception.

False Preacher Blues

I always pictured Heaven.
Never thought that Hell would be this bad.
I was sure I'd go to Heaven,
Never thought that Hell could be so bad.
So empty and so lonely,
You wanna die 'til you 'member that you already had.

Well God don't like a preacher
Who leads his flock in evil ways.
The Lord say, "Get behind me Satan,"
Who leads his flock in evil ways.
Lead the innocent to slaughter
'Cause they believe in what he says.

The Gospel bought me a good life.
I became a wealthy man.
I thought the Lord gave me the good life.
I thought he made me what I am.
When I died and went to Heaven,
"I never knew you," is all He said.

Now I'm down here in the fire.
The devil's welcomed me with glee.
He says, you've been my child for a long time,
ever since I put you on tv.
That voice you say you heard inside your head,
That wasn't Jesus, that was me.

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