Buttoned-up with a pair of slacks,
With a stain you can't remember.
Probably because they aren't yours,
But a man's who left them last September.
The pews are divided as equally,
As the soothing atmosphere.
So magnificent is that Cross,
You didn't notice your neighbor's sneer.
The colored stain-glassed windows shine,
Upon the altar gorgeous and grand.
And yet some whites sit in the front rows,
To avoid shaking a black hand.
The sermon is captivating and rich,
God nearly flows straight through your veins.
You would never stop to think,
Corruption would exist in his domain.
Confession arrives at last,
The longest part of the day.
Because man will always sin,
No matter how hard that we pray.
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