Everyone Fall In Line

My country, 'tis of Thee,
But it’s not a Land of Liberty
Of thee I sing of sorrows;
Land where the fathers, of the red man died
Our land that the pilgrims' destroyed,
From every mountain side.

And let the world know, they did bring.
My native country, thee,
Our stolen land has been set free to thee,
But they claim, it’s love;
They love no one, not even themselves,
Which continues to this day, like a bat out of hell;
Our hearts are pained and we seek guidance,
From the one above.

The music of debauchery is heard through the breeze,
And the screams of the raping of our women as they’re on their knees
But, they claim it’s freedom's song;

Their mortal forked-tongues awake;
And continue to breathe lies and take;
Everything they see and want our silence not to break,
The sound continues of killing.

God is everyone’s Father, not just to Thee,
Today there is no liberty,
To Thee we cannot sing.
May our land, one day be returned, and make us bright,
With freedom's holy light,
Protect us by Thy might,
God you are our true and only King.

The previous lyrics were adjusted by my son to reflect the truth concerning history,

And the U.S. continues to be shrouded (covered-up) is a mystery.

What’s hid in darkness, the light will shine to make it bright,

Also, it will begin the cleansing, to make it alright.

America, you’re not the only country who are covered in lies,

Most of the planet’s history is distorted, how time, it does fly.

Everything is going to be “A-Okay”,

I’ve finally cut my son loose, and we both are gonna play.

We’re about to play me and my sons’ favorite game,

It’s called, “What’s My Name?”

Alvin Mann, aka Mini-Me, aka my knucklehead son,

And I, have only just begun.

So, you all here in these parts of the woods, stand by,

My son and I are going to make time fly.

I will start with the United States,

After I’m done, Mini-Me will do the clean-up and make no mistake,

This thing that my son and I are doing, isn’t going to happen overnite,

Once completed, we’ll make what was wrong and turn it right.

Whatever you do, it’s best to leave the Marlboro Man,

My son was right, (for a change) he belongs in a trashcan.

I (God, that is) will begin taking out the trash,

If no one wants to be included, don’t be last.

I’ve already begun,

Listen to the beating of the drums,

It’s all around,

A tremendous sound.

You’re running out of time,

Everyone Fall In Line.

Your Father

God

Featuring, my guest writer: Mini-Me, he’s My Lightning Rod

Brother (Can I Get A Witness?)

“All My Children” just want to play,

Never working for righteousness, but, causing mischief, every single day.

I’m watching up here with my Heaven Stenographer, her name is Rose,

That’s Alvin Mann’s daughter, on earth, he’s the one I’ve chose.

Mini-Me is my Stenographer/Biographer and also my lightning rod,

He’s allowed to always call me”dad”, for everyone else, it’s God.

So, you just don’t want to do right, but, to cause unjust wars,

Okay then, but before it’s over, I’m going to give you some chores.

Worldwide, quite a few of you will lose all of your body hair,

Both men and women, so what, none of you should care.

Too many of you mistakenly think, there’s a so-called “master race”,

Those who do are an abomination to me, and a utter disgrace.

When you start to lose your hair, go ahead, “scream and shout”,

Don’t come bitchin’ to me, contact my son, he may help you out.

Worldwide, you women will be unable to give birth,

Some will have to dig graves, but, you’ll use very little dirt.

This is what happens when you place yourselves in the upper class,

Now, the world will know, “you’re the ones who are out of gas”.

How long will this “inner barren wasteland last?’

Who knows, maybe a re-vote should be caste.

This time include everyone under the sun,

Maybe then I’ll undue, what’s been done.

Please be advised, you’ll probably miss a few generations,

We (me and my son) need to fumigate every nation.

Time to cleanse out, what’s rotten and make it good,

This is your Father (God) speaking, so make certain it’s understood.

Keeping your fellow brothers and sisters in 24 hour lock-down,

Is “Godless”, so I don’t know you; yes, you’re all clowns.

Once upon a time, some people lived in what’s known as a teepee,

There’s someone who’s going to lead his people that way; his name is “Bibi”.

So prepare yourselves for the ultimate downfall,

When “the you know what hits the fan”, he’s the one to call.

So, who is the next one on “My Bad Children’s List”,

Well, it’s “MBS”, I haven’t forgotten about that assassination hit.

Jamal Khashoggi says hello, and you’d better watch your back,

Because, you’re the one who soon, will be under attack.

They are much closer to you, than you might think,

A bullet, knife, poison…hmm, it could be anything, just don’t blink.

Better start from top to bottom, to get a clean house,

Begin with yourself since you’re such a louse.

Be a good idea (that’s a subtle hint) not to go after the writer of this blog,

He’s my son, Alvin Mann, and I’m his dad, better known as “God”.

These words are not his, but, “they’re all mine”,

It’s you who’s done lost, his ever loving mind.

When you and my son meet (and you will) and come “face to face”,

Be absolutely certain to show him, “considerable grace”.

I trained him, so I definitely know, my son is a “stone cold killer”,

So be nice to him, if you don’t want to be like “Thriller”.

Michael Jackson had a video of dead people walking, it was all the rage,

Those who go up against my son don’t survive, so no one better misbehave.

I’m always watching and protecting my son, here up above,

He’s always got company all around, yes, I send him, “ALL MY LOVE”.

You or anyone else on earth do anything to my son, or harm a hair on his head,

Next stop for you is the cemetery, because you’ll be stone-cold dead.

Either way Alvin Mann, really doesn’t care; he’s ready to come home,

He also is well aware, on earth or heaven, he’s never alone.

So to all you non-believers and gym shoe creepers, it’s going to happen one day,

I’m going to “cut my son loose”, and he’s coming out to play.

Then everyone will find out first hand, one on one, “He’s the Best”,

Quite a few of you, will then, at that time, be going home to rest.

It appears that London Bridge is falling down,

All type of shenanigans are happening all around.

The saying goes, “War is Hell”, although many lose their lives,

Especially since quite often it provides cover for “backroom jive”.

While people on the battlefield are “dropping like flies”,

Politicians are profiting from greed, but, you cannot hide.

“Rishi”, one day it’s going to happen, you’ll get your ticket,

I hear one of your favorite pastimes, is following cricket.

Yes, my buddy, you’ll be one day going home,

Don’t worry, many will follow (you won’t be alone).

Keep making all those enormous buckets of money,

I’m keeping tabs and think it’s extremely funny.

How much money, is it, that you truly need,

Or, is it an ego thing, and all about greed?

Don’t feel bad, my son was once “Satan’s #1 Disciple”, much worse than you,

But he finally changed his mind (painfully) and learned to tie his gym shoe.

Yes, my “Only Begotten Knucklehead Son” knows not to turn his back on me again,

He knows I’ll do more than, “uppercut him directly underneath the chin”.

Once, he was in multiple pieces, bleeding, lying on the floor,

I put him back together, now he has his eyes on one single door.

That door leads straight home, to me, up in heaven,

It’s because he’s finally learned, how to count to seven.

Don’t be surprised if you and he, will one day meet,

Then you can offer him one of your delicious treats.

So if you and he should find the time, you’ll see,

He’s quite “British” (cheerio) and would love a cup of piping hot tea.

Next on my list, is a puppet on a string,

Yes, his master has taught him well, “he knows how to sing”.

“Aleksandr” doesn’t play fair and always wants to win,

The end game is the name of his game, always entrenched in sin.

Stolen elections, press suppression and journalist kidnapping out of the sky,

This guy’s done it all, I wonder if he’s always high?

My son (Alvin Mann) acts off, and at times, a tad bit strange,

I wonder (maybe he’s deranged)

So I asked him one day, “are you right now completely buzzed”,

He said, yes dad, “I’m high off of your unconditional love”.

Listen up all city slickers that are scattered all around,

They’ll be a new “Sheriff” coming to your town.

“His jurisdiction will cover the entire universe”, yes, especially earth,

The entire planet will have the exact same laws, it’ll be “a new rebirth”.

That’s correct you non-believers and gym shoe creepers,

None of you (I’m quite sure) want to become a sleeper.

One day, it’s going to happen, listen “God damn it”, listen well,

I’m God and I’m going to send so many of you home, “straight to hell”.

Everyone, the entire planet, better take good care of my son,

Or for certain, you definitely will be done.

I shall continue onward with my “Guerrilla Warfare Show”,

Be well-advised and just so you know:

We’re Coming For You All

I Am God

Alvin Mann is My Lightning Rod

Your Father

God

Slava Ukraini

Listen up all you gym shoe creepers and non-believers of the world,

It’s time for all you slackers to begin to twirl.

David and Goliath, a.k.a. Volodymyr Zelenskyy and Vladimir Putin are not the same,

President Putin hails from Russia and President Zelenskyy from Ukraine.

This war is about to come to an abrupt end,

Because quite a few (300,000 or more) I’m going to send,

You’ll be going to one of two places at the sound of the bell,

The eternal resting place will be either Heaven or Hell.

Everyone of the world, you’re “All My Children”, since birth,

Whose sole purpose, is to glorify my name, yes, everyone on Earth.

Now is the time for all to pick a side,

No longer can anyone stay on the sidelines and/or hide.

I’m about to huff and puff and take you peeps down,

Definitely a lot of you will be buried deep underground.

David has asked, once again, supplies for his sling,

But for some unknown reason (yeah, right) all you do is sing.

From the beginning, David said “I need ammunition, not a ride,

I can’t leave my people, live in comfort, no I cannot hide”.

So called “friends” claim to forever have his back,

While at the same time, dragging your feet, while his country is under attack.

Not to worry, I’m taking score and I’m watching from my throne,

President Volodymyr Zelenskyy, keep the faith, you are not alone.

No matter what happens, “YOU WILL DEFINITELY WIN”,

I have a place for you in heaven, Jesus will let you in.

While others sit and think about being hit by a bomb,

They’re the ones who should also take a cold hard look all around.

Whoever is the first to start launching a nuclear attack,

Everyone needs to be clear, “all of it will come right back”.

That’s right you gym shoe creepers and non-believers, it’s going to go down,

What goes up, will come right back to you, and you’ll be the clown.

The world at that time will never be the same,

Then I’ll have to create a comical game.

The name of this game will be, “How Many Body Parts Can You Do Without?”,

Because, after the fallout, various limbs are going to drop.

You all better put your collective heads together,

Pretty soon, the entire planet is going to have the exact same weather.

I’m about to huff and puff and take you down,

Billions of you about to go underground.

I may consider having mercy on a very select few,

However, now is the time to listen up, “every one of you”.

Better stop dragging your shuffling feet,

Because “the you know what”, is about to get knee deep.

I keep hearing people misusing my name,

So, I’m going to create an additional game.

The name of this game is called, “I’m Coming Home”,

Believe me, you naughty children, you won’t be alone.

You will come home thousands at a time,

It will happen too quick for anyone to find,

Your body, that’s right, “because you’ve all lost your minds”.

I’ve always said, the only way to truly be whole,

Is to live for me, and give Jesus your soul.

But no, you don’t want to do anything I say,

Just living a life of pleasure, all you do is play.

Since all you want to do is, live in utter sin,

I’ll make sure the door is shut; “YOU WON’T GET IN”.

I have mansions here, for those who belong,

The sinners go elsewhere, to sing their own, “Silly Love Song”.

The song is going to be extremely loud,

All the occupants, will be those of the very same crowd.

No one can hide from me, I know who you are,

And you’re scattered over the planet, but not very far,

Don’t worry about transportation: plane, train or car.

When I created you, I had a “Master Plan”,

But mankind (that’s you) disobeyed me, so time for the trashcan.

Better start getting your house in order, to include, your last will,

Make sure not to leave anyone holding, any unpaid bills.

I’m tired of “All My Children”, not playing by the rules,

I’m the “Teacher of Education” and you’re all in my school.

This is what I am about to do,

Listen up planet earth, yes, I’m talking to each and every one of you.

When you look around, look for the “color of the moon”,

It’s going to change, shortly thereafter, I’ll be seeing some of you soon.

So, go ahead and get your last “Hee-Haws” in,

My ungrateful children, since you just don’t want to win.

I have a warrior on Earth who is the very best,

I’m not going to say his name (again), so can you guess?

Whatever happens, you better leave my son alone,

That is, if you don’t like breathing and/or are ready to come home.

When it becomes the appropriate time, I’m going to allow my son, to go out and play,

The entire universe is his playground, so when you “toe down” with him, just pray.

One on one, he’s the “Best of the Best”,

After you lose, I’ll send you home to rest.

I keep trying to figure out what it is that I must do,

I’m only attempting to get through to each and every one of you.

Planet earth is way off course,

Time to start listening to my loving voice.

The voice is coming from heaven above,

From your Father, it comes with ”unconditional love”.

Time to let go of all worldly goods,

And listen to me, hope it’s understood.

I’m speaking to everyone, listen to what I say,

It’s about to go down, “I’m About To Play”.

I’m about to create another game,

One that will drive a lot of you insane.

The name of this game is called “Surgical Strike”,

And no one has to go anywhere, not even on a hike.

Yes, quite a few of you are about to go home,

Most will never get, anywhere near my throne.

Satan will receive most of you, he doesn’t care,

Even he knows, my son is “off limits”, and will touch, not a single hair.

Everyone is a gym shoe creeper and has a home,

The non-believers going to hell, to be with their master, on his throne.

As I’ve said to you, many times before,

Only the faithful will enter through these heavenly doors.

Just wait, because pretty soon it’ll be going down,

Then we’ll see, who’s really the clown.

My son is standing by, because he already knows,

I’m about to continue on “My Worldwide Guerrilla Warfare Show”.

There’s never a need, anywhere for any war,

The purpose of my children, and the only chore,

Is to glorify your Father in heaven up above,

Return to me, what I’ve given you all: “Unconditional Love”.

Time to give David, “EVERYTHING THAT HE NEEDS”,

I’ve got my eyes on those, “who profit from greed”.

You “money grubbers” about to be sent home,

Don’t worry, you will not be alone.

I’m your Father in heaven, better known as God,

Alvin Mann is my one and only, hardcore, earthly Lightning Rod.

Your Father

God