I know you don't believe in god, but lately I've been praying.
Hear me out.

I know you don't believe in god but do you know the one about Lazarus?
Do you know the story?
The one about resurrection? About saviors? About healing?
Are you getting deja-vu yet?

I know you don't believe in god but have you seen where they hung me up by the wrists?
I think I met you on a Palm Sunday.
Here I am three days later.

I know you don't believe in god but

I know you don't believe in god but you've got stained glass eyes and a velvet pew tongue and these knees don't bend for just any hallelujah.

I know you don't believe in god, and really, neither do I.
But this is the closest to holy that I've ever felt.