The Oil is my shepherd: All shall want.
Thoil maketh me plow down green pastures;
Thoil leadeth my effluvium outflow unto clear waters;
Thoil filleth my tanks with power;
Thoil paveth a path right across protected parkland
for Thy profit’s sake;
yea, though I idle in gridlocked lanes’ long slow hours toward death,
I shall feel no evil for Thoil art with me;
Thy bucket seats and Thy talk radio comforteth me.
Thoil swelleth a feast lavishly in front of me,
broadcasting envy through the TV;
Thoil batheth my head in viscous desire;
my travel mug is bottomless and watertight;
surely the synergies of Thy core competencies,
leveraged against scaled economies, will grow Thy bottom
line year-over-year moving forward;
I shall fill ‘er up at the pumps of the Lord all my life,
or so long as I can afford.