Mind you if a girl wasn't loose brothers wouldn't loose their viginity
Trying to break a point even
Evaluation I end up with a pazzel of confusion consentrating on the idea that I am
Visibility of his ignorant storm awkardly approve of him
I guess ******* is something you work on on some graduall renaissance indifinable it is the eminent bridge to a ship of relations. A burden that insults me and leaves the questions how many partners qualify one as a **** because at a point we all get ****** by the biggest ****** of all........

Here
I say what I need from you There
needed._What I needed there, right there,
where all leaves past and past is awkardly white finally
_From you.
right here again for the last time because this time
I have already said what I needed to say. To you.

I imagine when Jesus comes back he's going to
Invite us all to a gathering

"Bring your Bibles!!"

And some might bring snacks and some might
give up vices

And we will stand with him in some great courtyard he has God build

In a different country,
That feels like a football stadium…
Or a Colosseum.

He will tell us to put the books in a pile.

He will light a cigarette after everyone is settled and quiet

"Sweet Me, that's good"

And the match he uses to light it will be
tossed lovingly onto the Bible pile

And we will hear the ghosts of old Kings sing songs of freedom as the smoke carries them out into space.

No one will understand but our mouths will move and shape harmonies that crest over the sunset horizon

Jesus uses his cigarette like a baton, conducting a chorus to the dead white men undeserving of our hymns.

But they did his work.

So our lips lull them into God's hands

We didn't notice but the pile is burning in time with the cigarette. All the world's Bibles,

Except for one locked in the safe of a librarian who was skeptical that Jesus really returned.

He sits in front of a tv waiting for an explosion, miles away from the smolder, yet his lips move too.

He cries because he doesn't know why he sings.

We cry because we do.

The cigarette burns out and Jesus awkardly apologizes. He's not really sorry though.

After all it's our fault, were the ones who believed him.