Gospel

 
 
 
Sally, won’t you go
downtown.
Pick up some teabag party
clowns.
We’ll teach ’em tricks of trade
built on streets walled in by
degradation
Ain’t this nation grand
for glad hands raised in celebration,
profits of shames we dare not name.
 
Hallelujah Hallelucinations
Hallowed ground baptized
in blood
Saved from the cleansing Flood
by sticking to our kind
however we’re defining us today
If we were meant to live
a different way
wouldn’t He have told us?
.
.
.
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