You think it´s a choice to love God or not;

As if buying shoes for your cute little tots.

That’s a choice.

Should the fly choose the horse, or the pile in the pasture?

The pile will not squat, that’s the end of the matter.

Thats a choice.

Perhaps one would bite on a sweet candy apple.

Or swallow a bullet, his pea brain to rattle.

That’s a choice.

But you love to breathe His provision of air.

How could you possibly come to not care?

Where’s the choice?

And you love your body; you can feel, and that’s cool!

So how can you hate him?  You weren’t born a fool.

Where’s the choice?