Sunday Morning

I chose all the right songs

Played all the right chords

Till the kids who still weren’t singing

Praised the Lord

And the pastor yelled

About faith and hell

And I soundtracked his words for affect

Oh everyone cried and cried and cried

Everyone cried and cried and cried

And then we played kickball

Well is God just a feeling

You can use at your will

Beat your heart inside the loving

Pull the trigger when you kill

Well your promise of a new life

Read closer to a warning

So I don’t blame anyone for passing

What gets sold on Sunday morning

On Sunday morning

Adrian sighed aloud

She closed the door

Poured a high ball of Jamison

And opened her eyes some more

Asked did the Holy Spirit move?

I used to do those *** too

But you can only come down that hard so often

And I insisted we aren’t all that way

And I know He listens when I pray

And then we fought about Friedrich Nietzsche

Well is God just a feeling

That I use at my will

Like Elijah and his ravens

Gideon in the hills

That promise of a new life

Read closer to a warning

So I don’t blame anyone for passing

What gets sold on Sunday morning

On Sunday morning

She woke at dawn

Put a thin dress on

And we walked to Saint Joseph’s Cathedral

She made a cross with her wrists

Said you know what I miss?

Being lost, and then being found

And we danced singing Gold Dust Woman

Making promises I knew I shouldn’t

She said stop trying to rescue me

Cause I need more than a good feeling

That’s what You’re offering

On Sunday morning

On Sunday morning

Sunday morning