This is one I wrote this week. It's about my church:

Chiefs

Sick of their faults
full of my own
when it comes to a halt
where do I go?

So much love to give
so much love to bring
it's all being misplaced
cos we wanna be kings

I'm sick of it all
I hate it so much
clouding all judgement
it's running amuk

When it's all over
What will we say?
when all's said and done
will we obey?

We all think we know
the best way to go
the best path to travel
the best road to walk

but no one will grow
there'll be many a frown
they'll all end up bitter
in old Essendon town

Yes that's what happens
where there's too many chiefs
and thats what happens
when there's not enough Indians