Sunday, Sunday, Sunday

Sunday, Sunday, Sunday

It is Sunday,

And the worshippers gather outside,

To fellowship with one another,

And make plans to meet later,

At the shooting range,

To pop off a few rounds for Jesus.

Cordite and Christ – a merc made in Heaven.

It is Sunday,

And the Christians discuss morality,

For where two or more are gathered,

There he is also,

But not any fucking queers,

Or godless trans,

Even if they are their neighbors.

It is Sunday,

And the faithful bathe in the Holy Spirit,

That allows them to revile

Anyone that sounds funny

Or has different skin

Because who the fuck are they anyway,

And who cares what their papers say?

It is Sunday,

And the loyal put their hats back on,

Crimson in the sunlight,

For they have chosen a new god,

Who lets them sin out in the open,

Just as they always intended,

And you’re gonna like it –

Or get the fuck out of the way.

Cliff Lake 5/21/2023

CliffSongs