Face on cement, crowd gathers around
His old black coat thrown
Shining down on a curious sight
Parasol ants in a perfect line
Bright green leaves, raised up high
He is God, and those leaves are sails
He is God, and his breath is the gale
He is God, with time to kill
He is God, and he can do just what he
God is bored, so it's what the hell
He lets gold gust just to watch them flail
The ants go flying in disarray
Those bright green leaves,
He is God, and those leaves are sails
He is God, and his breath is the gale
He's got, and he can do just what he
just a well -known local hood
He is God, those leaves are sails
He is God, and His breath is the gale
He is God, with time to kill
He's God and he'll do just what he will