I can't help but notice
How much harder
The rain hits my face
After I've sinned.
And if there's a God,
He hates me.
No prayer can acquit this hatred.
There's no hymn to heal my wounds.
I'm surprised I haven't burst
Into flames yet.
They'd probably dump water on me
And call it a baptism.
Reborn, renewed, refreshed, my child.
Who made that water so pure?
Who died and put you in charge?
Go ahead,
Recite your verses and preach your sermons,
But the "Body of Christ"
Is just a piece of bread.