Seven

The Pixies said that god is seven
I wonder if I'll go to heaven
To see your life spread on a plate
Of anger, greed, and righteous hate

Your derision is a stabbing blade
It leaves a scar that will not fade
Your judgement is a smoking gun
It speaks the shame of what you've done

If heaven is real as you or I
Then I can't wait for you to die
To face the hatred you defend
And meet a karmic bitter end

Isn't that a pleasant dream
But things are never as they seem
You'll probably just rot away
And never even have to pay