The Blessed Can Save Themselves

From a small house on the hill,
a voice was heard saying "save me".
The bird bones in the yard whispering,
dead roses in its garden praying "save us".
Out in the streets, no one is listening;
their ears are filled with pennies,
their hearts are buried in shallow graves.
The only one who hears the cries for help
is God and He is busy saving sinners.

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