This saint’s a sinner and I’m losing faith. And there’s no repentance in saving grace. So you can nail me to the cross in your church of misery. And at the altar of the damned, you can come and worship me. And I’ll wear your crown of thorns, with a spear stuck in my side. I’ll turn the other cheek, I’ll take it all in stride. Ring in the holy gospel of one life losing love and when you fake your prayers, I hope it’s me you’re thinking of. Absolve me from love’s lament. My angels came heavenspent. There is no hope for you. There never was for me (I’m sorry). We’re here in memory of holy you and blasphemy. Long live the resurrection of shameless self deception. We’ll get drunk on blessed wine and we’ll swear: “We’re doing fine.” And in the sacristy, I’ll make a bed for you and me. We’ll sleep through Sunday mass and let the world come to pass.
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