A Presbyterian service
Is a morphine dream
That smells like death and bleach
Memories now out of reach
Born again in to faithlessness
By a hospital bed
Listening to the beep from the EKG
That lets me know your hearts still beating
Some days I still feel you
Other days I forget that you’re gone
But she’s still, still alive
Behind my eye and the cracks along my skin
Memories
And all those faulty faculties
Left me
All alone
If I could Evers hear your voice again
Do you think
I’d know?
Now I know
A Presbyterian service
Is a distant dream
Like the ashes in my lungs
Or the poison in my guts
Well I hope
I never get well
And I hope we all go to hell
Where a shadow can be felt
Hallelujah, Mother Mary
I know it’s been years
If her hospital room is empty
Then why am I still here?
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