My hand has fingers, why weren’t we given six, my feet, toes as well, what about those in positions on power, who use it irresponsibly, nerve endings all over my body, that tingle feeling I get, my hair, my eyes, even the flowers in the garden, how come they aren’t all green, as for my legs, all they do is carry me, as for my heart, could not have given us two. Conversations with God, there must be billions of them.
Then God asks, what did you do to the environment, well, the fish are complaining, the children are over stressed, do you call that progress Jim.
We complain so much, but don’t we always make noise when we try to distract the crowd. Solomon sighed, when change is a foot, they always come up with something to hold you back.