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jon-tobiasPoems
I can’t even remember how long it’s been now, But a really long time ago I asked God for a safe place to pray And I’ve been down every alley Walked through every broken back door leading into Houses I knew I should have never entered Had me turnin’ up psalms Paced to the rhythm of footsteps and rain I found this: My church Will never ask you to give up anything In exchange for your soul Keep it It’s probably ***** anyway My church Sounds like the ocean on Sunday Keeps the wine flowing whenever you need to numb the pain My church Will set itself on fire on the days you just can’t get up in the morning It’ll burn until you’re ready to come back My church Is in a tree house It’s the wrong tree though You know The one you are always barking up My church Will never make you feel guilty For anything You do that well enough yourself Now I can’t promise eternal happiness And I can’t promise virgins I can’t promise anything other than In my church You’ll never feel ugly You’ll never have to wonder what my church is thinking about you I promise it will answer every question honestly And hold you when you sleep at night My church highly condones cuddling Also There’s a good chance that Mel Gibson wants to **** me and my church Here I write poems to the rhythm of thunder And sing praise to all your beauty and wonder My church will never purposely make you hurt Here it’s just me With a few words You can come when you want to You can leave whenever Leave forever If you want But I promise My church Will always be right here
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Jun 3, 2011
Jun 3, 2011 at 10:20 PM UTC
At My Church
I can’t even remember how long it’s been now, But a really long time ago I asked God for a safe place to pray And I’ve been down every alley Walked through every broken back door leading into Houses I knew I should have never entered Had me turnin’ up psalms Paced to the rhythm of footsteps and rain I found this: My church Will never ask you to give up anything In exchange for your soul Keep it It’s probably ***** anyway My church Sounds like the ocean on Sunday Keeps the wine flowing whenever you need to numb the pain My church Will set itself on fire on the days you just can’t get up in the morning It’ll burn until you’re ready to come back My church Is in a tree house It’s the wrong tree though You know The one you are always barking up My church Will never make you feel guilty For anything You do that well enough yourself Now I can’t promise eternal happiness And I can’t promise virgins I can’t promise anything other than In my church You’ll never feel ugly You’ll never have to wonder what my church is thinking about you I promise it will answer every question honestly And hold you when you sleep at night My church highly condones cuddling Also There’s a good chance that Mel Gibson wants to **** me and my church Here I write poems to the rhythm of thunder And sing praise to all your beauty and wonder My church will never purposely make you hurt Here it’s just me With a few words You can come when you want to You can leave whenever Leave forever If you want But I promise My church Will always be right here
jon-tobias
Written by
jon-tobias
American
Jun 3, 2011
Jun 3, 2011 at 10:20 PM UTC
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