3 a.m. on a Sunday
and I'm tradin' sleep for a poem
thinking 'bout all the folks
who will don their Sunday finery
to hang out in a pew
with you and you and you
and you
still don't get it
that your soul is immortal
and not in need of savin'
but sure
I get it
it's a sense of comm
unity
we gather together to ask
the Lord's blessing
and even though I'm fallin' apart
in my decrepitude
I'm good to go with all of that
don't feel the need
cuz a coupla peeps singing loudly off key
on either side of me
isn't exactly what I call "inspirational"
having said all that
I'll admit I've prayed before
but it's always been
a white-knuckled
get me out of this freakin' jam
kinda thing
and by god
somehow...
somehow...
so let me say that if you don't feel
a connection
with something larger than
your own ego
whatever you wanna call it
then I have to wonder about ya
as in how did you miss it?
(ah--your head was buried in your phone!)
goddamn
my pen is running out of ink
so I guess I'll close for now
but it's been nice chatting with you
and if you don't mind
I'd rather not ruin my rep
as heathen in good standing
so let's just keep all this stuff
between you and me
God bless
