To Keep My Hands Busy

If I knew he was listening

I'd pray for almost anything

I'd pray for the beauty we can bring

Then pray to leave by angels wing

I'd pray in his house openly

My penitence needs some surgery

I'm just afraid that I might see

The church roof coming down on me

I'd pray from the sofa; the kitchen floor

I'd pray until my hands are sore

And if there's time for just one more

I'd pray that next time United score

I'd pray for just a little fun

That which bypassed your only son

I'd pray to know just what he won

When hands with holes let water run

I'd pray for peace to come and stay

I'd pray for snow on Christmas Day

I'd pray to live down by the bay

(Small lotto win, if that's OK)

I'd pray if it would come to pass

That prayers weren't as fragile as glass

That the big man showed some class

And got up off his great fat ass

Just what I'd pray for, I can't tell

For me and him don't get on well

His house is only good to sell

To those afraid to burn in hell

So I don't pray, I find it odd

To clasp my hands, 'donate' a wad

I'd sooner give to a firing squad

And if He ever turns up, don't give me a nod...