You stand there, gawking; and judging me
You with all of your Christianity....
A Sunday singer, who's always there:
How can you mock me.. yet kneel in prayer?
You claim you're a believer in the Holy Book
But tell me a passage.. that supports your look
What verse or number can you point me to
That says I deserve all this treatment from you
Have you forgotten it... that sacred line
That says your loving must "Be more like Mine"
Not hiding your light or burying your gift
Something inside you must surely shift..
The time is slipping and its disappearing fast
Before you know it, you'll be breathing your last
The hours of silence and the Sunday Mass
Will not mean a thing .. if you're an ass..