So a little prose poem called Good Time Jesus.
Jesus got up one day a little later than usual.
He had been dreaming so deep, there
was nothing left in His head.
What was it, a nightmare?
Dead bodies walking all around Him,
eyes rolled back, skin falling off,
but He wasn't afraid of that.
It was a beautiful day.
How about some coffee?
Don't mind if I do.
Take a little ride on my donkey.
I love that donkey.
Hell, I love everybody.