John Roy Babineaux was unaware
He had the gift
Or the title of
Supreme Ruler of the Universe
Which is fair since
Nobody knew anyone who’d had it before
Though many had (hell, probably even you).

“God is dead,” people say,
and they’re telling the truth;
“God is omniscient, omnipotent,”
people say,
and they’re telling the truth;
“God is in you,”
people say,
and they’re telling the truth.

You may know already
Some mass in the human body
Is unaccounted for
And you may think
That’s where the soul goes—
You’d be telling the truth.
But have you ever thought
About what the soul does?
Because it doesn’t think
And it doesn’t feel
Though we want to believe
So badly that it does.

The soul is an empty nest
Or an active receiver
For the power of
Supreme Ruler of the Universe
Currently nestled in
John Roy’s soul.

John Roy Babineaux was a lousy drunk,
Used to steal and lie and
Let everyone down he ever knew and
When he received the power of
Supreme Ruler of the Universe,
People began to get sick
In the head, in the heart
And fed up with the sickness of others:
They began dying in strange ways—
Doctors didn’t even have time
To come up with names
Much less cures,
And killing came back en vogue
So much the police
Even put on a show.

The confusion seemed to be without end
’til John Roy hopped back on the wagon again.

He got a job as a lifeguard
At the neighborhood pool;
He saved at least one life,
And the world followed suit:
They picked up the pieces,
Murder decreased, and
Nobody stole, nobody lied,
Nobody gave up, ev’ryone tried
To clean up the community,
clean up their minds.

They deleted pornography
one clip at a time.
Nobody spanked and nobody cranked,
Everyone showered, and nobody stank,
But when John Roy relapsed,
Whole planets collapsed,
Terrestrials blame terror,
A wire had snapped,
Fear was upon them and sanity fled.
When John Roy acts brain‐dead,
No one’s right in the head;
No one trusts their own neighbors
When John Roy’s fixed on regret; he
Drinks ’til his insides
Feel hollow, the people don’t
Know who to follow, so
Everyone starts agonizing
Incessantly
John Roy is clogged to the top;
The voices grow louder—
It seems they won’t stop;
He drops the bottle
Lets it shatter
Notes a drop in the chatter
Pictures a ladder
Adds a rung to shorten strides
Establish a goal to live one
moment in time
Make a decision, go
on, make another
Reroute his life, start
living for others.

The people responded: they started giving.
John Roy suspected a reason for living:
To share it all,
Always, no reason to hide.
A cold lonely life takes a long time to die.

If you wish to know
how Supreme Rule passed on,
pay heed to the words
at the end of the song.

John Roy made amends,
Reconnected with friends;
He founded a project
That goes on without end:
It’s a warm hideaway
In the middle of town, where
people can come when the
sun goes down;
it’s a place of games and books and toys
for all ages—the goal: to unite
ev’ryone in all phases.
Dungeons and Dragons, Green Eggs and Ham,
Movies, literature, photography, and
Cooking, sewing, and décor for the home,
A community home so that
No one’s alone.

So if you want your Supreme Rule
To go nice and quick, focus on
one goal, No matter how big,
work and work at it so when it’s
your turn you get something
done and don’t watch the world burn,
keep trying and trying,
burst after burst,
make use of your gift when
you rule the universe.