How well God must like you - you don't hang out at Sin Saloon, you don't slink along Dead-End Road, you don't go to Smart-Mouth College.
Instead you thrill to God's Word, you chew on Scripture day and night.
You're a tree replanted in Eden, bearing fresh fruit every month, Never dropping a leaf, always in blossom.
You're not at all like the wicked, who are mere windblown dust -
Without defense in court, unfit company for innocent people.
God charts the road you take. The road they take is Skid Row.